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Sabat #1
The Graveyard Vultures
Mark Sabat, ex-priest, SAS-trained killer, exorcist, is a man with a dreadful mission. Driven and haunted, he has to seek out and destroy his mortal enemy. An enemy who has been chosen the Left Hand Path, who embodies the eternal principle of Evil. An enemy who is his own brother. Sabat was trapped, helplessly trapped, in his own paralysed body. His mind, conscious but impotent, raged and struggled against inert flesh. He could sense, feel, the dark encrusted blood that masked his face. Sticky and rancid, more blood had soaked into his clothing, saturated through to the skin. Beside him the girl was naked, her pale body hideously marked by the knife that had stabbed and sliced through her flash. Above them loomed the descrated altar, black candled, the crucifix reversed. But now the waiting was almost over. The ceremony was about to begin.
160 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published May 1, 1982
8 people are currently reading
133 people want to read
About the author
Guy N. Smith
175 books300 followersI was born on November 21, 1939, in the small village of Hopwas, near Tamworth, Staffordshire, England. My mother was a pre-war historical novelist (E. M. Weale) and she always encouraged me to write.
I was first published at the age of 12 in The Tettenhall Observer, a local weekly newspaper. Between 1952-57 I wrote 56 stories for them, many serialized. In 1990 I collated these into a book entitled Fifty Tales from the Fifties.
My father was a dedicated bank manager and I was destined for banking from birth. I accepted it but never found it very interesting. During the early years when I was working in Birmingham, I spent most of my lunch hours in the Birmingham gun quarter. I would have loved to have served an apprenticeship in the gun trade but my father would not hear of it.
Shooting (hunting) was my first love, and all my spare time was spent in this way. In 1961 I designed and made a 12-bore shotgun, intending to follow it up with six more, but I did not have the money to do this. I still use the Guy N. Smith short-barrelled magnum. During 1960-67 I operated a small shotgun cartridge loading business but this finished when my components suppliers closed down and I could no longer obtain components at competitive prices.
My writing in those days only concerned shooting. I wrote regularly for most of the sporting magazines, interspersed with fiction for such magazines as the legendary London Mystery Selection, a quarterly anthology for which I contributed 18 stories between 1972-82.
In 1972 I launched my second hand bookselling business which eventually became Black Hill Books. Originally my intention was to concentrate on this and maybe build it up to a full-time business which would enable me to leave banking. Although we still have this business, writing came along and this proved to be the vehicle which gave me my freedom.
I wrote a horror novel for the New English Library in 1974 entitled Werewolf by Moonlight. This was followed by a couple more, but it was Night of the Crabs in 1976 which really launched me as a writer. It was a bestseller, spawning five sequels, and was followed by another 60 or so horror novels through to the mid-1990's. Amicus bought the film rights to Crabs in 1976 and this gave me the chance to leave banking and by my own place, including my shoot, on the Black Hill.
The Guy N. Smith Fan Club was formed in 1990 and still has an active membership. We hold a convention every year at my home which is always well attended.
Around this time I became Poland's best-selling author. Phantom Press published two GNS books each month, mostly with print runs of around 100,000.
I have written much, much more than just horror; crime and mystery (as Gavin Newman), and children's animal novels (as Jonathan Guy). I have written a dozen or so shooting and countryside books, a book on Writing Horror Fiction (A. & C. Black). In 1997 my first full length western novel, The Pony Riders was published by Pinnacle in the States.
With 100-plus books to my credit, I was looking for new challenges. In 1999 I formed my own publishing company and began to publish my own books. They did rather well and gave me a lot of satisfaction. We plan to publish one or two every year.
Still regretting that I had not served an apprenticeship in the gun trade, the best job of my life dropped into my lap in 1999 when I was offered the post of Gun Editor of The Countryman's Weekly, a weekly magazine which covers all field sports. This entails my writing five illustrated feature articles a week on guns, cartridges, deer stalking, big game hunting etc.
Alongside this we have expanded our mail order second hand crime fiction business, still publish a few books, and I find as much time as possible for shooting.
Jean, my wife, helps with the business. Our four children, Rowan, Tara, Gavin and Angus have all moved away from home but they visit on a regular basis.
I would not want to live anywhere other than m
I was first published at the age of 12 in The Tettenhall Observer, a local weekly newspaper. Between 1952-57 I wrote 56 stories for them, many serialized. In 1990 I collated these into a book entitled Fifty Tales from the Fifties.
My father was a dedicated bank manager and I was destined for banking from birth. I accepted it but never found it very interesting. During the early years when I was working in Birmingham, I spent most of my lunch hours in the Birmingham gun quarter. I would have loved to have served an apprenticeship in the gun trade but my father would not hear of it.
Shooting (hunting) was my first love, and all my spare time was spent in this way. In 1961 I designed and made a 12-bore shotgun, intending to follow it up with six more, but I did not have the money to do this. I still use the Guy N. Smith short-barrelled magnum. During 1960-67 I operated a small shotgun cartridge loading business but this finished when my components suppliers closed down and I could no longer obtain components at competitive prices.
My writing in those days only concerned shooting. I wrote regularly for most of the sporting magazines, interspersed with fiction for such magazines as the legendary London Mystery Selection, a quarterly anthology for which I contributed 18 stories between 1972-82.
In 1972 I launched my second hand bookselling business which eventually became Black Hill Books. Originally my intention was to concentrate on this and maybe build it up to a full-time business which would enable me to leave banking. Although we still have this business, writing came along and this proved to be the vehicle which gave me my freedom.
I wrote a horror novel for the New English Library in 1974 entitled Werewolf by Moonlight. This was followed by a couple more, but it was Night of the Crabs in 1976 which really launched me as a writer. It was a bestseller, spawning five sequels, and was followed by another 60 or so horror novels through to the mid-1990's. Amicus bought the film rights to Crabs in 1976 and this gave me the chance to leave banking and by my own place, including my shoot, on the Black Hill.
The Guy N. Smith Fan Club was formed in 1990 and still has an active membership. We hold a convention every year at my home which is always well attended.
Around this time I became Poland's best-selling author. Phantom Press published two GNS books each month, mostly with print runs of around 100,000.
I have written much, much more than just horror; crime and mystery (as Gavin Newman), and children's animal novels (as Jonathan Guy). I have written a dozen or so shooting and countryside books, a book on Writing Horror Fiction (A. & C. Black). In 1997 my first full length western novel, The Pony Riders was published by Pinnacle in the States.
With 100-plus books to my credit, I was looking for new challenges. In 1999 I formed my own publishing company and began to publish my own books. They did rather well and gave me a lot of satisfaction. We plan to publish one or two every year.
Still regretting that I had not served an apprenticeship in the gun trade, the best job of my life dropped into my lap in 1999 when I was offered the post of Gun Editor of The Countryman's Weekly, a weekly magazine which covers all field sports. This entails my writing five illustrated feature articles a week on guns, cartridges, deer stalking, big game hunting etc.
Alongside this we have expanded our mail order second hand crime fiction business, still publish a few books, and I find as much time as possible for shooting.
Jean, my wife, helps with the business. Our four children, Rowan, Tara, Gavin and Angus have all moved away from home but they visit on a regular basis.
I would not want to live anywhere other than m
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Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews
June 9, 2022
Złota Era Horroru i moje pierwsze spotkanie z Sabatem – Markiem Sabatem – egzorcystą i łowcą kultystów w kultowej równie odsłonie.
Mark Sabat to bardzo niejednoznaczna postać. Postać, którą trzeba polubić, trzeba chociaż docenić, żeby móc z przyjemnością kontynuować jego przygody i perypetie. Sabat jest specyficzny – wyuzdany jak diabli, rozmyślający o sprawach cielesnych z intensywnością napalonego nastolatka. Jednocześnie to spec w swojej dziedzinie, człowiek na właściwym miejscu, o bardzo konkretnej misji. Guy N. Smith nadał mu szczyptę swoich cech fizycznych, podkręcił, podwędził, podrasował i wyszedł mu facet, któremu żadna sekta niestraszna, który ma zawsze czas na skok w bok, a który walczy z siłami ciemności, sam operując w mroku.
„Cmentarne hieny” to jedynie wstęp do sabatowego cyklu. To smakowita próbka tego, co znajdziemy w kolejnych odsłonach (mam przynajmniej taką nadzieję). To NASTY w całej swojej okazałości – „obrzydliwość”, jak sam swoją twórczość klasyfikował Smith. Jest krwawo, jest brutalnie i przerysowanie. Tutaj przemoc i seks działają wymiennie, na miarę psychodelicznych klasyków filmowych tamtych lat. Jest pulpowo po prostu, tak jak powinno być. To nie ma być horror najwyższej próby, to nie ma być dzieło elitarne, tylko dla wybrańców, którzy może za siódmym czytaniem zrozumieją metaforę – nie! To jest horror ludyczny, dla rozentuzjazmowanych mas czytelników, którzy wyruszą w szaloną jazdę z Markiem Sabatem. Ja pojadę, jak najbardziej, ale w samochodzie obok, bo z Markiem to nigdy nic nie wiadomo.
Mark Sabat to bardzo niejednoznaczna postać. Postać, którą trzeba polubić, trzeba chociaż docenić, żeby móc z przyjemnością kontynuować jego przygody i perypetie. Sabat jest specyficzny – wyuzdany jak diabli, rozmyślający o sprawach cielesnych z intensywnością napalonego nastolatka. Jednocześnie to spec w swojej dziedzinie, człowiek na właściwym miejscu, o bardzo konkretnej misji. Guy N. Smith nadał mu szczyptę swoich cech fizycznych, podkręcił, podwędził, podrasował i wyszedł mu facet, któremu żadna sekta niestraszna, który ma zawsze czas na skok w bok, a który walczy z siłami ciemności, sam operując w mroku.
„Cmentarne hieny” to jedynie wstęp do sabatowego cyklu. To smakowita próbka tego, co znajdziemy w kolejnych odsłonach (mam przynajmniej taką nadzieję). To NASTY w całej swojej okazałości – „obrzydliwość”, jak sam swoją twórczość klasyfikował Smith. Jest krwawo, jest brutalnie i przerysowanie. Tutaj przemoc i seks działają wymiennie, na miarę psychodelicznych klasyków filmowych tamtych lat. Jest pulpowo po prostu, tak jak powinno być. To nie ma być horror najwyższej próby, to nie ma być dzieło elitarne, tylko dla wybrańców, którzy może za siódmym czytaniem zrozumieją metaforę – nie! To jest horror ludyczny, dla rozentuzjazmowanych mas czytelników, którzy wyruszą w szaloną jazdę z Markiem Sabatem. Ja pojadę, jak najbardziej, ale w samochodzie obok, bo z Markiem to nigdy nic nie wiadomo.
April 10, 2014
I like Guy Smith, I really do. I read all the "Killer Crabs" books when they released them in paperback here many years ago. They were silly, gory pulp horror novels. So an ex-priest, ex-SAS mercenary exorcist? Sounds like pulp gold, right?
This was bad. Really bad. It made "Killer Crabs" look like classic literature by comparison.
***Beware, there be spoilers below. Of a shitty book you shouldn't read, but still...***
First off, the main character is an asshole Mary Sue who manages to be supremely competent and almost entirely ineffective. He does some investigating, but doesn't find much. He finds a witness who he rapes. But that's okay, because she enjoys it, and even starts to have feelings for him. Not that she gets much of a chance to do anything about it, because he can't keep her alive even one night. Maybe if he'd thought with his head instead of his dick...but then again, he can't seem to do that. He gets erections every few pages, and describes every woman in terms of how much he'd like to fuck her.
Oh, and the raping? He does it twice, to different women.
Then there's the random guy he kills on the road. He nearly hits a guy on a motorcycle who has to swerve, hits something, falls off and splatters himself all over the road. Our hero, folks! The guy turned out to be one of the cultists, but still, Sabat didn't know that. The dead guy turns out to be the boyfriend of another cultist who decides to further the plot by being stupid.
The only reason Sabat survives is because of a deus ex machina. He literally does nothing but wake up and not die. Raped girl number two saves him by killing the bad guy.
Seriously, don't read this. Or read it knowing that it's complete shit, if you like that kind of thing. There are three more books in the series, and I can't imagine how much worse it could get, but I'm betting it will.
This was bad. Really bad. It made "Killer Crabs" look like classic literature by comparison.
***Beware, there be spoilers below. Of a shitty book you shouldn't read, but still...***
First off, the main character is an asshole Mary Sue who manages to be supremely competent and almost entirely ineffective. He does some investigating, but doesn't find much. He finds a witness who he rapes. But that's okay, because she enjoys it, and even starts to have feelings for him. Not that she gets much of a chance to do anything about it, because he can't keep her alive even one night. Maybe if he'd thought with his head instead of his dick...but then again, he can't seem to do that. He gets erections every few pages, and describes every woman in terms of how much he'd like to fuck her.
Oh, and the raping? He does it twice, to different women.
Then there's the random guy he kills on the road. He nearly hits a guy on a motorcycle who has to swerve, hits something, falls off and splatters himself all over the road. Our hero, folks! The guy turned out to be one of the cultists, but still, Sabat didn't know that. The dead guy turns out to be the boyfriend of another cultist who decides to further the plot by being stupid.
The only reason Sabat survives is because of a deus ex machina. He literally does nothing but wake up and not die. Raped girl number two saves him by killing the bad guy.
Seriously, don't read this. Or read it knowing that it's complete shit, if you like that kind of thing. There are three more books in the series, and I can't imagine how much worse it could get, but I'm betting it will.
September 24, 2015
Maybe it's me, but with each book I read by Guy N. Smith, I seem to like them less and less. I really liked his work years ago. I got a few books here and there. Read them. Liked them. Went on to another. Now I come back after years of away from his work, I just can't seem to get into it like I use to.
Book one of the Sabat series is a bit out there. I may would of liked it 20 or so years ago. Now, it's just a strange time waster. A sort of Dr. Strange rip off with a hero that rapes and likes to kill. I won't spoil the ending, but it dragged on and on. This was not a long book. It just seemed like it. Maybe I'll stick my neck out and read read book 2 sometime.
Book one of the Sabat series is a bit out there. I may would of liked it 20 or so years ago. Now, it's just a strange time waster. A sort of Dr. Strange rip off with a hero that rapes and likes to kill. I won't spoil the ending, but it dragged on and on. This was not a long book. It just seemed like it. Maybe I'll stick my neck out and read read book 2 sometime.
June 17, 2024
This wasn't really what I was expecting, but hopefully book 2 is better.
September 27, 2024
After his neverending 'Crabs' series begun by his biggest seller, 'Night of the Crabs', Guy N. Smith's name is probably remembered most for the character he introduced in 'The Graveyard Vultures', a particularly worthy character called Mark Sabat. Ex-priest, ex-SAS man and exorcist, he fought the time-honoured battle against evil in four New English Library novels in just over a year, returned a few times over the decades for odd short stories and eventually showed back up towards the end of Smith's career, leading two further novels no fewer than thirty-five years on. He was missed, as his appearance on the cover of 'Pulp Horror' #8 in late 2018 highlighted.
And it's easy to see why. This is a short novel, only a hundred and sixty pages in mass market size, a lean and mean NEL paperback, yet it packs an incredible amount into such a short space. I've loved this book and this series for decades, the fourth Mark Sabat novel, 'The Druid Connection' serving as my introduction to his work back in the mid-eighties, and I re-read it recently in preparation for an article I wrote for a Polish compilation, but taking detailed notes afresh reminded me how much actually happens. It's a rare chapter that doesn't feature a new outrageous scene.
That all begins in the prologue, in which Mark Sabat hunts his brother Quentin. Mark is no paragon of virtue, as we'll soon discover, but his brother is far worse, one of the most powerful forces for evil in recent memory. Mark has sought him for years and finally tracked him down by venturing out on the astral plane in the form of a kestrel, impossibly aged in a remote hut. Now he goes there in our physical world to defeat him once and for all, but arrives as he's perpetrating necromantic rites on a trio of corpses he's just dug up. He's practicing voodoo to rejuvenate himself.
They fight; Quentin far stronger than his feeble frame might suggest, and Mark comes off worse, a memorable and highly visual shot of him falling into one of the graves, looking up at his brother, an axe in his hand swinging down at him. He shoots him repeatedly with his .38 and, one final struggle later, shoots him once more, through the skull at point blank range. Quentin's head explodes and it should be all over. But Mark runs and, when he gets back to his hotel room, he realises that he now hosts the soul of his brother, trapped inside his own flesh alongside his own.
That's just the prologue that sets the stage not only for this first novel but the entire series, with a constant running battle going on between the two opposing souls in Sabat's body. Mark can never let down his guards or Quentin will take over and his evil will once again be unleashed upon a very unsuspecting world. Do you think Smith slows down after that? Not in the slightest.
Chapter two is relatively tame, Sabat doing research on recent desecrations at a rural church that the bishop has called him into address. Chapter eleven is short and action free, Sabat returning to his body from a journey to see the Rada gods of voodoo and Maître Carrefour visiting him there to remind him of a vow he's just made to commit murder. Really, though, those are the only two quiet chapters, from the standpoint of outrage. The other eleven chapters have no intention of skimping.
For instance, chapter one explains what Sabat's about to find himself up against. Interlopers to St. Adrian's church dig up a grave, retrieving the recently deceased corpse of Sylvia Adams, eighteen-years-old when she passed of a stomach cancer that she'd been fighting for five years. This coven is in need of her virgin flesh and they drape her across a tomb as makeshift altar with a naked hooker from London alongside her, plan to take Sylvia's virginity after her demise, summoning the Master to finish the job and pound the pair of them with His hooves. After all that, the chapter ends with a crazed masturbation fantasy back at Sabat's house. It doesn't let up.
While Bishop Wentnor explains the situation to Sabat, it's clear that he doesn't understand what's really going on and the ramifications of it, but our former exorcist sees the signs. Not only did this coven desecrate a church and its cemetery, along with the occupant of one of its graves; they dug up a hundred-year old corpse at the same time and took it with them. Sabat researches the history of the village and discovers that William Gardiner, the body in question, was tried for heresy back in 1871. He was freed on Walpurgisnacht and died on Hallowe'en, so his bones are powerful magic in the wrong hands, which, of course, they're now in.
So he constructs a large pentagram on the floor of his room at the Dun Cow and, safely sleeping in its protective lines, ventures out onto the astral plain to track down Miranda, the young lady whose eye he caught downstairs earlier. She's having sex with a married man named Royston and he stays to watch and learn from their subsequent conversation. Royston is the leader of the coven, not the man Horace, who's now locked up in an asylum after the graveyard incident; he's secured a temple to replace it as the home for their dark rites; and he knows that Sabat has come to town, who he is and what he's planning to do, so he's already planned for his demise. Sabat rushes back to his body to find the Dun Cow on fire. He escapes and wakes up three days later in a Birmingham hospital.
There are chapters here that contain more action and blasphemy than some entire horror novels. Smith seriously wasn't holding back and he keeps up the pace throughout. This is a quick read, sure, but it's also a very focused one, with fewer characters than normal drawn a little deeper. The death count isn't particularly high, if we only count bodies we see killed, but destruction is rampant and a good part of that is collateral human damage. One scene, in which Sabat exorcises St. Adrian's and its cemetery, involves him invoking the power of Baron Cimiterre and wreaking bloody havoc on an army of spirits set against him, finishing up by raping one of them and then bludgeoning it to bits. Technically, nobody dies, because they're all already dead, but it's delightfully gruesome anyway.
It's hard to pick a favourite scene amidst so much choice. Maybe it's Sabat saving a priest by sawing off the head of his corpse. Maybe it's the triple whammy of Sabat being seduced by a succubus in a psychically hypnotic state, said succubus attempting his murder during coitus and then him raping her back to her senses. Of course, it could be a naked young lady being draped over the skeleton of William Gardiner in lewd fashion and having her wrists and throat slit to help magically restore the skin to his bones. I have more choices if you want them. As I mentioned, Smith doesn't hold back.
Amidst all this, we learn a lot about Mark Sabat, who's a notably conflicted individual, even before Quentin's soul was thrust into his body. It's hard to tell if he's a good man or bad, but he does fight for the forces of good, whether it's to oppose Quentin's unrivaled evil or to back the Rada gods led by Lord Damballah in their age old battle against the darker Petro gods of voodoo, one of which he has already tricked. Some characteristics are typical of Smith's more wish fulfilment characters: he smokes a pipe, drinks whiskey and is particularly insatiable in the sack. However, they're deepened here, that attraction to women a serious weakness that almost leads to his death here.
I remember vividly being fascinated by the background texture of this series, the details of warfare with occult weapons. I was probably fourteen when I found 'The Druid Connection' and I quickly put a Smith collection together, absorbed by the concept of astral travel, something I never figured out how to do, and the use of faith, pentagrams and cleanliness as offensive and defensive weapons. It was a perfect storm for me, layered on top of the imagery I was discovering in heavy metal through the proto-extreme bands like Venom, Possessed and especially Celtic Frost. This was a guidebook, a training manual and a sudden immersion into a whole new world, without much time to breathe.
Re-reading all these old Smiths as a monthly runthrough has brought back so many memories and so much pleasure in revisiting old friends. Many of my favourites of his books aren't the series but standalone novels, such as 'The Sucking Pit' (which did eventually prompt a sequel) 'Deathbell' and, I fully expect when I get that far, 'Abomination' and 'Fiend'. However, Mark Sabat remains a special exception and this fresh return to his first outing underlines why. I'm only one book in and already cursing New English Library for cancelling the series after four.
Originally posted at the Nameless Zine in June 2023:
https://www.thenamelesszine.org/Voice...
Index of all my Nameless Zine reviews:
https://books.apocalypselaterempire.com/
And it's easy to see why. This is a short novel, only a hundred and sixty pages in mass market size, a lean and mean NEL paperback, yet it packs an incredible amount into such a short space. I've loved this book and this series for decades, the fourth Mark Sabat novel, 'The Druid Connection' serving as my introduction to his work back in the mid-eighties, and I re-read it recently in preparation for an article I wrote for a Polish compilation, but taking detailed notes afresh reminded me how much actually happens. It's a rare chapter that doesn't feature a new outrageous scene.
That all begins in the prologue, in which Mark Sabat hunts his brother Quentin. Mark is no paragon of virtue, as we'll soon discover, but his brother is far worse, one of the most powerful forces for evil in recent memory. Mark has sought him for years and finally tracked him down by venturing out on the astral plane in the form of a kestrel, impossibly aged in a remote hut. Now he goes there in our physical world to defeat him once and for all, but arrives as he's perpetrating necromantic rites on a trio of corpses he's just dug up. He's practicing voodoo to rejuvenate himself.
They fight; Quentin far stronger than his feeble frame might suggest, and Mark comes off worse, a memorable and highly visual shot of him falling into one of the graves, looking up at his brother, an axe in his hand swinging down at him. He shoots him repeatedly with his .38 and, one final struggle later, shoots him once more, through the skull at point blank range. Quentin's head explodes and it should be all over. But Mark runs and, when he gets back to his hotel room, he realises that he now hosts the soul of his brother, trapped inside his own flesh alongside his own.
That's just the prologue that sets the stage not only for this first novel but the entire series, with a constant running battle going on between the two opposing souls in Sabat's body. Mark can never let down his guards or Quentin will take over and his evil will once again be unleashed upon a very unsuspecting world. Do you think Smith slows down after that? Not in the slightest.
Chapter two is relatively tame, Sabat doing research on recent desecrations at a rural church that the bishop has called him into address. Chapter eleven is short and action free, Sabat returning to his body from a journey to see the Rada gods of voodoo and Maître Carrefour visiting him there to remind him of a vow he's just made to commit murder. Really, though, those are the only two quiet chapters, from the standpoint of outrage. The other eleven chapters have no intention of skimping.
For instance, chapter one explains what Sabat's about to find himself up against. Interlopers to St. Adrian's church dig up a grave, retrieving the recently deceased corpse of Sylvia Adams, eighteen-years-old when she passed of a stomach cancer that she'd been fighting for five years. This coven is in need of her virgin flesh and they drape her across a tomb as makeshift altar with a naked hooker from London alongside her, plan to take Sylvia's virginity after her demise, summoning the Master to finish the job and pound the pair of them with His hooves. After all that, the chapter ends with a crazed masturbation fantasy back at Sabat's house. It doesn't let up.
While Bishop Wentnor explains the situation to Sabat, it's clear that he doesn't understand what's really going on and the ramifications of it, but our former exorcist sees the signs. Not only did this coven desecrate a church and its cemetery, along with the occupant of one of its graves; they dug up a hundred-year old corpse at the same time and took it with them. Sabat researches the history of the village and discovers that William Gardiner, the body in question, was tried for heresy back in 1871. He was freed on Walpurgisnacht and died on Hallowe'en, so his bones are powerful magic in the wrong hands, which, of course, they're now in.
So he constructs a large pentagram on the floor of his room at the Dun Cow and, safely sleeping in its protective lines, ventures out onto the astral plain to track down Miranda, the young lady whose eye he caught downstairs earlier. She's having sex with a married man named Royston and he stays to watch and learn from their subsequent conversation. Royston is the leader of the coven, not the man Horace, who's now locked up in an asylum after the graveyard incident; he's secured a temple to replace it as the home for their dark rites; and he knows that Sabat has come to town, who he is and what he's planning to do, so he's already planned for his demise. Sabat rushes back to his body to find the Dun Cow on fire. He escapes and wakes up three days later in a Birmingham hospital.
There are chapters here that contain more action and blasphemy than some entire horror novels. Smith seriously wasn't holding back and he keeps up the pace throughout. This is a quick read, sure, but it's also a very focused one, with fewer characters than normal drawn a little deeper. The death count isn't particularly high, if we only count bodies we see killed, but destruction is rampant and a good part of that is collateral human damage. One scene, in which Sabat exorcises St. Adrian's and its cemetery, involves him invoking the power of Baron Cimiterre and wreaking bloody havoc on an army of spirits set against him, finishing up by raping one of them and then bludgeoning it to bits. Technically, nobody dies, because they're all already dead, but it's delightfully gruesome anyway.
It's hard to pick a favourite scene amidst so much choice. Maybe it's Sabat saving a priest by sawing off the head of his corpse. Maybe it's the triple whammy of Sabat being seduced by a succubus in a psychically hypnotic state, said succubus attempting his murder during coitus and then him raping her back to her senses. Of course, it could be a naked young lady being draped over the skeleton of William Gardiner in lewd fashion and having her wrists and throat slit to help magically restore the skin to his bones. I have more choices if you want them. As I mentioned, Smith doesn't hold back.
Amidst all this, we learn a lot about Mark Sabat, who's a notably conflicted individual, even before Quentin's soul was thrust into his body. It's hard to tell if he's a good man or bad, but he does fight for the forces of good, whether it's to oppose Quentin's unrivaled evil or to back the Rada gods led by Lord Damballah in their age old battle against the darker Petro gods of voodoo, one of which he has already tricked. Some characteristics are typical of Smith's more wish fulfilment characters: he smokes a pipe, drinks whiskey and is particularly insatiable in the sack. However, they're deepened here, that attraction to women a serious weakness that almost leads to his death here.
I remember vividly being fascinated by the background texture of this series, the details of warfare with occult weapons. I was probably fourteen when I found 'The Druid Connection' and I quickly put a Smith collection together, absorbed by the concept of astral travel, something I never figured out how to do, and the use of faith, pentagrams and cleanliness as offensive and defensive weapons. It was a perfect storm for me, layered on top of the imagery I was discovering in heavy metal through the proto-extreme bands like Venom, Possessed and especially Celtic Frost. This was a guidebook, a training manual and a sudden immersion into a whole new world, without much time to breathe.
Re-reading all these old Smiths as a monthly runthrough has brought back so many memories and so much pleasure in revisiting old friends. Many of my favourites of his books aren't the series but standalone novels, such as 'The Sucking Pit' (which did eventually prompt a sequel) 'Deathbell' and, I fully expect when I get that far, 'Abomination' and 'Fiend'. However, Mark Sabat remains a special exception and this fresh return to his first outing underlines why. I'm only one book in and already cursing New English Library for cancelling the series after four.
Originally posted at the Nameless Zine in June 2023:
https://www.thenamelesszine.org/Voice...
Index of all my Nameless Zine reviews:
https://books.apocalypselaterempire.com/
June 29, 2013
"Ex-priest. Ex-SAS. Exorcist." You can't beat that for a tagline, can you?
I haven't read a Guy N Smith book since I was about 14, but I'll be honest - I really enjoyed this. Mark Sabat is a cross between Dr Strange and John Constantine, with the morals of James Bond, in the body of the bloke from the Black Magic adverts of the '70s. (He's also a little bit rapey. That's not so good.)
But Smith was on a crest here; riding high on the success of his many pulp horror novels (most notably the Crabs series), and all filled - in best James Herbert tradition - with sex and violence, gore, and the trappings of the swinging '80s.
I'd grown out of Smith's books by the time the Sabat series was published, but I picked this entire four book series up on a whim from eBay for a bit of a song, and I'm quite glad I did. This first book was fast, trashy, and certainly politically incorrect, but I enjoyed it for all that.
I haven't read a Guy N Smith book since I was about 14, but I'll be honest - I really enjoyed this. Mark Sabat is a cross between Dr Strange and John Constantine, with the morals of James Bond, in the body of the bloke from the Black Magic adverts of the '70s. (He's also a little bit rapey. That's not so good.)
But Smith was on a crest here; riding high on the success of his many pulp horror novels (most notably the Crabs series), and all filled - in best James Herbert tradition - with sex and violence, gore, and the trappings of the swinging '80s.
I'd grown out of Smith's books by the time the Sabat series was published, but I picked this entire four book series up on a whim from eBay for a bit of a song, and I'm quite glad I did. This first book was fast, trashy, and certainly politically incorrect, but I enjoyed it for all that.
Read
April 10, 2013I have a great problem with this series. Characters are boring and unconvincing, books are wrote negligent, plot is always very simple. But at the same time it's so much fun to read them! I have all four and I regret there isn't more, I would love to read more about the great Mark Sabat even if he's one of the worst hero I know.
January 15, 2017
Hammer Horror meets 1970's soft core porn. Not a bad thing, just not executed terribly well.
July 31, 2025
Guy N. Smith doesn’t get good press — and at first glance, rightly so. His books have flimsy, poorly woven plots, cardboard characters, unintentionally funny tropes, and a crude, simplistic style. Anyone looking for "Good Literature", "Refinement", "Elegant Prose" or well crafted plot twists should steer well clear of his novels.
But that’s not the task Smith sets for himself. He consciously creates so-called pulp horror (he classifies his own books as “nasties”) — escapist Grand Guignol-style horror fun, full of violence, guts, gore, cheap thrills, and brutal sex. And if you’re aware of those assumptions going in, you might end up having a hell of a good time.
Here we go, then — "The Graveyard Vultures", the first volume in the series about exorcist Mark Sabat.
What a character this Sabat is! I mean, really :-) After some homosexual experiences in his youth (!!!), he becomes a priest (!!!), only to abandon the clergy, disgusted by its hypocrisy, and join the SAS (!!!), which he later leaves partly due to the “dark powers” radiating from him, and partly due to a sex scandal involving his commanding officer’s wife (!!!). Sabat’s sexual appetite is enormous, and if he doesn’t have a partner handy, he happily (with the enthusiasm of a teenage boy!) pleasures himself.
Rock and roll, baby — no matter what Smith writes, with a character like this it’s gonna be wild.
And it is :-)
"The Graveyard Vultures" opens with a duel between Sabat and his dark brother Quentin — a scene so comical it’s reminiscent of Indiana Jones facing the Arab swordsman. Sabat enters the battle armed with exorcisms, firm faith, a crucifix, and garlic (vampires?), but when none of it works… he pulls out a pistol and kills his brother with a few well-aimed shots! LOL — how can you not burst out laughing?
What follows is a rather decent occult horror tale, in the vein of Dennis Wheatley’s novels ("The Devil Rides Out", etc.). A satanic cult is thriving in an English village. During a ritual, the cultists attempt to resurrect a long-dead sorcerer using acts of necrophilia and the murder of a prostitute. Mark Sabat (now with a split personality, as his evil brother’s soul has entered him) arrives to foil their plans. He exorcises the cursed cemetery, rapes captured cultist women (yikes), makes astral pacts with deities (a surprisingly cool touch), and in the end defeats the cult leader (the rest of the cultists, as far as I can tell, are slaughtered by Satan himself).
Everything in this novel works like clockwork. There’s violence, there’s horror, there’s a ton of sex (hilariously over-the-top whenever Sabat gets into his solo acts), and there’s Sabat himself — a compelling, ambiguous figure (at the novel’s end, Sabat accidentally kills a motorcyclist in a traffic accident and feels zero guilt, merely commenting: “Well, tough luck for the guy”).
It’s all in the style of those sensational European horror flicks from the 1970s.
Meaning? Not a shred. Higher values? Zilch. But for pure, brain-resetting pulp joy — there’s plenty.
But that’s not the task Smith sets for himself. He consciously creates so-called pulp horror (he classifies his own books as “nasties”) — escapist Grand Guignol-style horror fun, full of violence, guts, gore, cheap thrills, and brutal sex. And if you’re aware of those assumptions going in, you might end up having a hell of a good time.
Here we go, then — "The Graveyard Vultures", the first volume in the series about exorcist Mark Sabat.
What a character this Sabat is! I mean, really :-) After some homosexual experiences in his youth (!!!), he becomes a priest (!!!), only to abandon the clergy, disgusted by its hypocrisy, and join the SAS (!!!), which he later leaves partly due to the “dark powers” radiating from him, and partly due to a sex scandal involving his commanding officer’s wife (!!!). Sabat’s sexual appetite is enormous, and if he doesn’t have a partner handy, he happily (with the enthusiasm of a teenage boy!) pleasures himself.
Rock and roll, baby — no matter what Smith writes, with a character like this it’s gonna be wild.
And it is :-)
"The Graveyard Vultures" opens with a duel between Sabat and his dark brother Quentin — a scene so comical it’s reminiscent of Indiana Jones facing the Arab swordsman. Sabat enters the battle armed with exorcisms, firm faith, a crucifix, and garlic (vampires?), but when none of it works… he pulls out a pistol and kills his brother with a few well-aimed shots! LOL — how can you not burst out laughing?
What follows is a rather decent occult horror tale, in the vein of Dennis Wheatley’s novels ("The Devil Rides Out", etc.). A satanic cult is thriving in an English village. During a ritual, the cultists attempt to resurrect a long-dead sorcerer using acts of necrophilia and the murder of a prostitute. Mark Sabat (now with a split personality, as his evil brother’s soul has entered him) arrives to foil their plans. He exorcises the cursed cemetery, rapes captured cultist women (yikes), makes astral pacts with deities (a surprisingly cool touch), and in the end defeats the cult leader (the rest of the cultists, as far as I can tell, are slaughtered by Satan himself).
Everything in this novel works like clockwork. There’s violence, there’s horror, there’s a ton of sex (hilariously over-the-top whenever Sabat gets into his solo acts), and there’s Sabat himself — a compelling, ambiguous figure (at the novel’s end, Sabat accidentally kills a motorcyclist in a traffic accident and feels zero guilt, merely commenting: “Well, tough luck for the guy”).
It’s all in the style of those sensational European horror flicks from the 1970s.
Meaning? Not a shred. Higher values? Zilch. But for pure, brain-resetting pulp joy — there’s plenty.
July 15, 2021
I found this series of books in the loft recently. Remembered enjoying them as a teenager in the 1980s, so I put them in my TBR box. So, I read this one and it left me with mixed feelings. On the one hand, I can see influences on my early interests in the paranormal and my early writing. And now I'm older and better read, I could follow a lot of the references he makes to voodoo and things like a throwaway reference to Jonathan Wild, for example.
On the other hand, while Sabat should be an interesting character - ex-priest, ex-SAS man, exorcist whose body is semi-possessed by his ow evil brother, I'm deeply disturbed by some of the things that Sabat does. He's completely amoral, which means that he kills and rapes without compunction. And, actually, he's pretty bloody useless as a protagonist, making mediocre progress with his investigations and stumbling into traps like a total muppet, often led by his (frequent) erections. Semi-spoiler ahead, despite getting the gods to intervene on his behalf, this is completely ineffectual, and the only way he gets through this is with the help of an unlikely source in the final pages. And he subscribes to the August Derleth school of writing where placing a line (and sometimes a paragraph) in italic is supposed to make it sound more dramatic. It doesn't!
OK, something's really bothering me. Sabat is an ex-priest, a follower of the Christian God (obviously) and invokes the name of Jesus Christ as he faces evil and sanctifies areas where evil has taken place. And yet he also nips off in his astral body and has a chat with the Voodoo gods. So the mixture of monotheism and polytheism is more than just a tad confusing.
I want to say that this is a product of its time - a pulp fiction horror story filled with visceral descriptions of graphic violence, and that's what you get. But while the reader wants the character to defeat the supernatural evil, the boundaries between protagonist and antagonist are very slim. The evil crimes that Sabat does, unchecked, is fundamentally disturbing, as is certain characters' acceptance of them.
I may read the others, or I may not. They're out of the loft now; it's an interesting nostalgia trip and I'm not spending any money on them. I googled Guy N Smith - saw that he'd died in December 2020 due to complications arising from COVID. I also saw that he'd penned volumes 5 and 6 of the series (published 2018 and 2019) two short books which may wrap up the series.
On the other hand, while Sabat should be an interesting character - ex-priest, ex-SAS man, exorcist whose body is semi-possessed by his ow evil brother, I'm deeply disturbed by some of the things that Sabat does. He's completely amoral, which means that he kills and rapes without compunction. And, actually, he's pretty bloody useless as a protagonist, making mediocre progress with his investigations and stumbling into traps like a total muppet, often led by his (frequent) erections. Semi-spoiler ahead, despite getting the gods to intervene on his behalf, this is completely ineffectual, and the only way he gets through this is with the help of an unlikely source in the final pages. And he subscribes to the August Derleth school of writing where placing a line (and sometimes a paragraph) in italic is supposed to make it sound more dramatic. It doesn't!
OK, something's really bothering me. Sabat is an ex-priest, a follower of the Christian God (obviously) and invokes the name of Jesus Christ as he faces evil and sanctifies areas where evil has taken place. And yet he also nips off in his astral body and has a chat with the Voodoo gods. So the mixture of monotheism and polytheism is more than just a tad confusing.
I want to say that this is a product of its time - a pulp fiction horror story filled with visceral descriptions of graphic violence, and that's what you get. But while the reader wants the character to defeat the supernatural evil, the boundaries between protagonist and antagonist are very slim. The evil crimes that Sabat does, unchecked, is fundamentally disturbing, as is certain characters' acceptance of them.
I may read the others, or I may not. They're out of the loft now; it's an interesting nostalgia trip and I'm not spending any money on them. I googled Guy N Smith - saw that he'd died in December 2020 due to complications arising from COVID. I also saw that he'd penned volumes 5 and 6 of the series (published 2018 and 2019) two short books which may wrap up the series.
December 10, 2020
It's a curious quirk how fiction publishing, unlike movie and TV broadcasting, has always gotten away with extremes, in matters of violence and sex. With the novel in question, those avenues are tapped without restraint. The result is something totally nuts and quite entertaining.
Reading this was like watching an old episode of "Hammer House of Horror", but one which was allowed to be completely unrestrained. Imagine a world where black magic, voodoo, demons, satanic covens, astral projection, etc., are all real. Enter the larger-than-life protagonist Mark Sabat, a true anti-hero, on the side of good - sort of. He's a handsome exorcist; imagine Burt Reynolds with facial scars. In his younger days, he joined the priesthood after feeling deep shame over a homosexual experience that he really enjoyed. When this fell apart, he joined the SAS. But his insatiable sexual appetite got the better of him, and he was kicked out after some bedroom shenanigans with the general's wife (or something to that effect). He is gifted with occult powers, such as the ability to astral travel, enabling him to see hidden evils that ordinary people can't. As a result, he's the fixer that the Church calls upon when there are rumours of devil worship afoot. He's the one man who has the necessary occult knowledge to tackle the nastier side of the supernatural and the necessary fighting skills to tackle the physical.
How could I fail to be interested in something so ridiculously over-the-top? Now, if you're looking for a story that you can take seriously, or characters you can relate to, look elsewhere. This is pure pulp fiction, unapologetically brimming with lustfulness and nastiness. A short and not-so-sweet roller-coaster that doesn't outstay its welcome. If Stephen King were at the helm of this story, we would have to wade through a hundred pages of prose fleshing out Sabat's background. Smith just throws in a few paragraphs. And you know what, it's better than way.
Reading this was like watching an old episode of "Hammer House of Horror", but one which was allowed to be completely unrestrained. Imagine a world where black magic, voodoo, demons, satanic covens, astral projection, etc., are all real. Enter the larger-than-life protagonist Mark Sabat, a true anti-hero, on the side of good - sort of. He's a handsome exorcist; imagine Burt Reynolds with facial scars. In his younger days, he joined the priesthood after feeling deep shame over a homosexual experience that he really enjoyed. When this fell apart, he joined the SAS. But his insatiable sexual appetite got the better of him, and he was kicked out after some bedroom shenanigans with the general's wife (or something to that effect). He is gifted with occult powers, such as the ability to astral travel, enabling him to see hidden evils that ordinary people can't. As a result, he's the fixer that the Church calls upon when there are rumours of devil worship afoot. He's the one man who has the necessary occult knowledge to tackle the nastier side of the supernatural and the necessary fighting skills to tackle the physical.
How could I fail to be interested in something so ridiculously over-the-top? Now, if you're looking for a story that you can take seriously, or characters you can relate to, look elsewhere. This is pure pulp fiction, unapologetically brimming with lustfulness and nastiness. A short and not-so-sweet roller-coaster that doesn't outstay its welcome. If Stephen King were at the helm of this story, we would have to wade through a hundred pages of prose fleshing out Sabat's background. Smith just throws in a few paragraphs. And you know what, it's better than way.
February 5, 2025
My first encounter with Sabbath—Mark Sabat, an exorcist and cult hunter in an equally iconic version. This experience strongly influenced my Trust Casefiles series of books.
Mark Sabat is a highly enigmatic character, one who you have to like, or at least appreciate, to fully enjoy his adventures. Sabat is unique—extremely promiscuous, constantly preoccupied with carnal matters like a teenager. Yet, he is also an expert in his field, a man on a mission, perfectly suited for his role. Guy N. Smith infused him with some of his own physical traits, tweaked and adjusted them, and created a character who fears no sect, always finds time for side escapades, and battles the forces of darkness while operating the darkness himself.
"Graveyard Hyenas" serves as merely an introduction to the Sabbath cycle, offering a tantalizing glimpse of what the subsequent installments may hold (at least, one can hope). This NASTY at its finest – "an abomination," as himself described his work. It is bloody, brutal, and exaggerated. In this narrative, violence and sex function interchangeably, reminiscent of the psychedelic film classics of that era. It is delightfully pulpy, as it should be. This is not intended to be a top-tier horror, nor is it meant to be an elitist piece understood only by a select few after multiple readings – no! This is a ludic horror for the enthusiastic masses of readers who will eagerly join Mark Sabbath on a wild ride. I will gladly join in, but in the adjacent car, as one can never be too sure with Marek.
Mark Sabat is a highly enigmatic character, one who you have to like, or at least appreciate, to fully enjoy his adventures. Sabat is unique—extremely promiscuous, constantly preoccupied with carnal matters like a teenager. Yet, he is also an expert in his field, a man on a mission, perfectly suited for his role. Guy N. Smith infused him with some of his own physical traits, tweaked and adjusted them, and created a character who fears no sect, always finds time for side escapades, and battles the forces of darkness while operating the darkness himself.
"Graveyard Hyenas" serves as merely an introduction to the Sabbath cycle, offering a tantalizing glimpse of what the subsequent installments may hold (at least, one can hope). This NASTY at its finest – "an abomination," as himself described his work. It is bloody, brutal, and exaggerated. In this narrative, violence and sex function interchangeably, reminiscent of the psychedelic film classics of that era. It is delightfully pulpy, as it should be. This is not intended to be a top-tier horror, nor is it meant to be an elitist piece understood only by a select few after multiple readings – no! This is a ludic horror for the enthusiastic masses of readers who will eagerly join Mark Sabbath on a wild ride. I will gladly join in, but in the adjacent car, as one can never be too sure with Marek.
August 26, 2023
Well, that was unpleasant.
I've previously read Smith's "Cannibals" and "The Slime Beast" and enjoyed them for the trashy read that they were. But after this, no more Guy N. Smith for me.
Here's a word of warning: the protagonist, Mark Sabat, is a vile piece of work. Not only does he, totally without conscience, kill an innocent motorcyclist with his car and subsequently leave the body in the road, but he rapes a young woman who has been victimised by the cult that he is hunting. Sabat believes this rape is justified because the woman tried to kill him whilst under hypnosis.
I almost stopped reading there, but I wanted to write a review so I had to finish.
Seriously, avoid this book. It's sickening and leaves a bad taste in the mouth.
I've previously read Smith's "Cannibals" and "The Slime Beast" and enjoyed them for the trashy read that they were. But after this, no more Guy N. Smith for me.
Here's a word of warning: the protagonist, Mark Sabat, is a vile piece of work. Not only does he, totally without conscience, kill an innocent motorcyclist with his car and subsequently leave the body in the road, but he rapes a young woman who has been victimised by the cult that he is hunting. Sabat believes this rape is justified because the woman tried to kill him whilst under hypnosis.
I almost stopped reading there, but I wanted to write a review so I had to finish.
Seriously, avoid this book. It's sickening and leaves a bad taste in the mouth.
January 21, 2022
The second half of the book became much more exciting. Lots of sexual descriptions and Ghouls and other occult happenings.
September 23, 2025
Guy N. Smith at his worst. Like an insane Jack Higgins.
October 12, 2022
Reads just like a 70s drive in horror film.. He smokes a pipe, rides astral plains and sleeps naked in a bed inside a large pentagram to keep the demons out and exorcises a woman by raping her. Wild ride
June 5, 2022
Sabat on a mission to destroy evil. The soul of his evil brother inside him, Sabat has numerous enemies he must destroy as well. He will exorcise himself, make pacts with other evil forces to survive. This book is out there.
September 12, 2021
Ending bothered me. Felt unearned
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
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