Lumley,Brian - Necroscope 5 - Deadspawn

Brian Lumley - Necroscope 5 - Deadspeak

Brian Lumley

Necroscope 5 - Deadspawn V1.0

ISBN 0-586-20905-0

When Harry put his hand on her clay-cold brow she recoiled as from a serpent! Not

physically, for she was dead, but her mind cringed, shrank down, withdrew into itself like

the feathery fronds of some strange sea anemone brushed by a swimmer. The Necroscope

felt his blood turn to ice and for a moment stood in horror of himself. The last thing he'd

wanted was to frighten her still more. Wrapping her in his thoughts, in the warmth of his

deadspeak, he said: It's all right! Don't be afraid! I won't hurt you! No one can ever hurt

you again! It was as easy as that. Without even trying, he'd told her that she was dead. But

in the next moment he saw that she had already known: KEEP OFF! Her deadspeak was a

sobbing shriek of torment in Harry's mind. GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU FILTHY . . .

THING!

Resume:

Harry Keogh inherited the psychic skills of his mother and grandmother, which in him

have evolved to unparalleled heights of parapsychological power. He is a Necroscope: he

talks to the dead like other men talk to their friends and neighbours. And indeed the

teeming dead are Harry's friends, for he is the one light in their eternal darkness, their only

contact with the world they have left behind.

For the common perception of death is incorrect: the minds of the dead do not accompany

their bodies into corruption and dust but go on to explore the myriad possibilities of their

leanings which were unattainable in life. The writers continue to 'write' great works that

can never be published; the architects design fabulous, near-perfect cities which will never

be built; the mathematicians explore Pure Number to exponentials whose only boundary is

infinity.

file:///G|/rah/Brian%20Lumley/Brian%20Lumley...cope%205%20-%20Deadspawn%20V1.0%20(html).htm (1 of 314) [2/13/2004 10:18:40 PM]

Brian Lumley - Necroscope 5 - Deadspeak

As a boy Harry utilized his esoteric 'talent' to help with his studies; since he himself did not

appear academically inclined, certain of his deceased specialist friends were able to show

him the short cuts around otherwise impossible classroom problems. As a result of which

he discovered his own affinity for instinctive or intuitive maths.

Harry Keogh was not the only one who 'talked' to the dead. In the USSR the Soviet E-

Branch (ESP-Branch) made use of Boris Dragosani, a necromancer, to tear the secrets of

corpses from their violated bodies. But where Harry was beloved of the Great Majority,

they feared and loathed Dragosani. The difference was this: where the Necroscope merely

conversed with the dead, befriending and consoling them, and asking nothing in return, the

Russian necromancer simply reached in and took\ Having been instructed in his obscene

talent by a long-buried but still undead vampire, whose seed had been passed on to him,

nothing could be hidden from Dragosani: he would find his answers in the blood, the guts,

the very marrow of his victims' bones. In all other instances the dead can't feel pain - but

that was part of Dragosani's talent, too. For when he worked he made them feel it! They

felt his hands, his knives, his tearing nails; they knew and felt everything he did to them! It

was never his way simply to question the dead for their secrets, for then they might lie to

him. No, his way was to rend them apart and then read the answers in torn skin and

muscle, in shredded ligaments and tendons, in brain fluid and the mucus of eye and ear,

and in the very texture of the dead tissue itself!

. . . While avenging the cruel death of his murdered mother, Harry Keogh became aware of

the existence of the ESP-agencies of East and West. Recruited to the aid of British ESP-

Intelligence in the secret war with Russia's mindspies, he pitted himself against Boris

Dragosani. And now his intuitive maths came into play.

With the assistance of August Ferdinand Möbius (1790-1868) Harry gained access to the

Möbius Continuum, a fifth dimension running parallel not only to the mundane four but to

all other material planes. He could now in effect 'teleport' instantly to anywhere in the

world, just as long as he had the mathematical co-ordinates or a dead friend in that location

to act as a beacon. In addition, he had discovered his terrible power to call up the dead

from their graves!

To rid the world of the vampire Dragosani, Harry used the Möbius Continuum to invade

the Chateau Bronnitsy, Russia's secluded E-Branch HQ. There he called up from death an

army of mummified Tartars whose bodies had been preserved by the peaty ground.

Dragosani was destroyed, and along with him many of the staff and much of the apparatus

of the Soviet mindspy agency.

But Harry paid the price too, and his body was also destroyed. Except . . .

... As the Necroscope knew well enough from personal experience, death is not the end.

Incorporeal, pure mind, he escaped to the Möbius Continuum and later, by involuntary

metempsychosis, came to 'inhabit' the brain-dead body of a British esper. By then,

however, Harry had also come to realize the role he must play in the eradication of

vampire spawn from the world of men. This recognition of his purpose (his destiny?) came

about through the discovery of a vampire's scarlet thread among the pure blue life-threads

of humanity where they permeate the past and future time-lanes of the Möbius Continuum.

Yulian Bodescu, contaminated with vampirism by Thibor Ferenczy - the same centuries-

file:///G|/rah/Brian%20Lumley/Brian%20Lumley...cope%205%20-%20Deadspawn%20V1.0%20(html).htm (2 of 314) [2/13/2004 10:18:40 PM]

Brian Lumley - Necroscope 5 - Deadspeak

dead vampire who infected Dragosani - threatened both Harry's life and the life of his baby

son. But this time it was Harry Jr who turned the tables and made possible Bodescu's

destruction; for he too was born a Necroscope, with talents the same as (or greater than?)

those possessed by his father.

Following the Bodescu affair, Harry Jr vanished (apparently from the face of the Earth)

and took his poor demented mother with him. Harry Sr, searching far and wide for his wife

and infant son, despaired of ever finding them: in the Möbius Continuum their life-threads

disappeared mysteriously into some otherworldly place where even he could not follow.

Harry quit British E-Branch and devoted himself to his search, which soon became an

obsession. Years passed and the Necroscope turned recluse, living in a rambling,

ramshackle house some miles outside Edinburgh.

Then . . . E-Branch contacted him again. They were badly in need of Harry's help and

guessed he'd be reluctant, but there was also a carrot. The Branch had a similar case on its

hands: a Secret Service agent had gone missing, not presumed dead. Just like Harry Jr and

his mother, so now a young spy had disappeared into thin air. The mindspies had reason to

believe he was alive, but still they couldn't find him. Harry checked it out with the Great

Majority, who denied that the missing man had joined their ranks. And yet E-Branch swore

that he wasn't 'here' on Earth. So ... where was he?

Could it be he was in the same place as the Necroscope's wife and child?

Eventually Harry's inquiries led him to the Perchorsk Projekt, a Russian experiment buried

deep in a ravine under the Ural Mountains. In an attempt to create a force-field barrier as a

counter to the USA's Star Wars scenario, the Soviets had accidentally blasted a 'wormhole'

out of this space-time dimension into a parallel plane of existence. And in so doing they

had also discovered the ancient source of all vampiric infestation of Earth! Things were

coming through the Perchorsk Gate into our world. Unbelievable things - unbelievable

except to the Necroscope and certain members of the British and Soviet E-Branches.

Through his contacts with the dead, and especially with the assistance of August Ferdinand

Möbius, Harry discovered a second Gate and used it to venture into the world of the

Wamphyri, whose skyscraper aeries gloomed gaunt and nightmarish over all Starside, the

world where the vampire Lords held sway. There he discovered his son, grown now to a

young man, but, alas, infected with vampirism!

Known as The Dweller in this weird parallel world, Harry Jr had so far managed to hold

his vampire metamorphosis in check; he commanded a small band of Travellers (the

original Gypsies), and a regiment of 'trogs', the aboriginal men of Starside. But his enemies

were monstrous and far outnumbered him. Only his 'magic' - his mastery of the Möbius

Continuum, and of superior science - had so far kept him safe. But under the guidance of

the great and sinister Lord Shaithis, the warlike Wamphyri had recently put aside all

personal grievances and banded together into an awesome, alien army. Jealous of The

Dweller, his garden and works, they would move in unison against him.

The two Harrys must stand alone against this force of monsters, else total Wamphyri

domination of Star- and Sunside would become a grim and horrific reality. But they did

not stand entirely alone; in the bloody battle for The Dweller's garden, the Lady Karen

joined sides with them. A vampire, indeed Wamphyri, Karen was as beautiful as she was

file:///G|/rah/Brian%20Lumley/Brian%20Lumley...cope%205%20-%20Deadspawn%20V1.0%20(html).htm (3 of 314) [2/13/2004 10:18:40 PM]

Brian Lumley - Necroscope 5 - Deadspeak

clever. She could read the minds of the vampire Lords and forecast their every move. Still

Shaithis and his fellow Lords, their lieutenants, and all the vast and terrible warrior-

creatures they had created from the flesh of men and trogs alike must surely have won the

battle . . . had it not been for the awesome powers of the Necroscope and his son.

Using the raw light of the sun itself, the garden's defenders defeated Shaithis's vampire

army, and went on to level the towering stacks of stone and bone which were the aeries of

the Wamphyri. All except Karen's, who had been their ally . . .

Afterwards, Harry Keogh visited Karen in the grimly forbidding aerie which was her

place. She was not long a vampire; the thing within her had not yet gained full ascendancy;

if the Necroscope could drive out her vampire and destroy it ... perhaps there was yet a

chance for Harry Jr.

Harry's method was crude, cruel, even brutal - but hideously effective. Except . . . how

could he have foreseen the consequences? Karen had been Wamphyri! And now? Without

her vampire she was nothing but a pretty, empty girl. Where was her power, her freedom,

her raw, unfettered Wamphyri spirit now? Gone.

And when Harry awoke from his exhaustion, gone too was Karen!

From on high he saw her body wrapped in the white sheath she wore for a gown, bloody

and broken on the flanks of her aerie, where she had thrown herself down from the

uppermost levels.

The Dweller saw what his father had done, and knew why. If Harry Sr had found a cure for

Karen, he might well have applied the principle to Harry Jr, too. Fearing that one day his

father might return to Starside with just such a 'cure', The Dweller used his superior

vampire powers to reduce Harry's skills to nothing. He took away his deadspeak (his

ability to talk to the dead) and also his numeracy. And then he returned Harry Keogh, ex-

Necroscope, to his own world, the world of men . . .

Forbidden to speak to the dead - a rule he must obey or else suffer terrible mental and

physical agony - and denied the use of the Möbius Continuum as a result of his enforced

innumeracy, Harry Keogh was as close as he had ever been to being a 'normal' man.

Which, after what he had known, equated almost to a prefrontal lobotomy. He had been the

Necroscope - and was now powerless.

But although incapable of conscious communication with the teeming dead, still they

could speak to him in his dreams. And their message was monstrous. Another Great

Vampire had come to stalk the world!

Harry had dedicated himself to the eradication of vampirism; but what could he, ex-

Necroscope, do now? As the world's foremost expert on vampires, he could at least advise.

He must do something, for unless he and E-Branch found the vampire first, then sooner or

later the undead monster would surely find him! For Harry had grown into a legend: he

was the vampire-slayer, and locked in his 'crippled' mind were all the secrets of the Great

Majority and mathematical formulae governing the Möbius Continuum itself. If the born-

again monster should use its necromancy to steal his forbidden metaphysical talents . . . the

result would be unthinkable!

The dead, forbidden to talk to Harry except in his dreams, rallied to him. They used other

methods to get their messages across: to tell him that a vampire was at work in the islands

file:///G|/rah/Brian%20Lumley/Brian%20Lumley...cope%205%20-%20Deadspawn%20V1.0%20(html).htm (4 of 314) [2/13/2004 10:18:40 PM]

Brian Lumley - Necroscope 5 - Deadspeak

of the Aegean. Once more in league with E-Branch, Harry Keogh and the girl who loved

him went out to the Mediterranean to see what could be done.

But two British espers had already been vampirized and their esoteric talents added to

those of Janos Ferenczy, the bloodson of Faéthor and 'brother' to Thibor, the old Thing In

The Ground. Janos was back to reclaim his territories and dig up again certain antique

treasure-hoards which he himself had long ago buried as a safeguard against the changes

which centuries of immobility in undeath would bring, treasures which would lie lost in

the earth until his planned 'resurrection'. These preparations had been made back in the

fifteenth century, when Janos had known that his powerful vampire father, Faéthor, was

returning again to Wallachia after almost three hundred years of bloodthirsty adventuring

with the Crusaders, then with Genghis Khan, and finally with the Moslems. For Faéthor

hated Janos and would try to 'kill' him (as he had already put down his brother, Thibor,

undead into the earth), for which reason Janos had made these provisions against an

uncertain future.

When Harry saw what he was up against with Janos, and after the vampire had taken

Harry's woman for his own, then he knew he must somehow regain his dead-speak and his

command over the mysterious Möbius Continuum. Without these powers ... he just

wouldn't stand a chance.

The ghost of Faéthor Ferenczy, whose place was the crumbling, deserted, overgrown ruins

of a house close to Ploiesti in Romania, contacted Harry and offered to help. The damage

done to Harry's mind was the work of The Dweller, Harry Jr, a vampire with hugely

enhanced mentalist powers. If Harry would now allow Faéthor's spirit into his mind,

perhaps that 'father' of vampires could remove the blockage and unlock the closed-off

regions. Harry did not like the idea (to allow a vampire, this vampire, into his mind?) and

knew it was an experiment fraught with the most terrifying dangers. But beggars can't be

choosers.

As to why Faéthor should want to help: he could not bear the thought of his bloodson,

Janos, up and about in the world while he was nothing but a fading memory, shunned even

by the dead. He wanted Janos put down again, indeed he actively desired to be the

instrument of that termination. And Harry Keogh was the only one who could do it. At

least, this was the explanation which Faéthor offered to Harry . . .

In Romania, Harry slept overnight in the ruins of Faéthor's last refuge, and while he slept

the father of vampires entered his mind and reopened certain mental 'doors' which Harry Jr

had closed there. Waking up, Harry discovered his deadspeak returned to him. Now he

could contact the long-dead mathematician Möbius and have him enter his mind and, he

hoped, give him back his numeracy and mastery of the so-called Möbius Continuum. But

Faéthor had lied: once inside Harry's mind the vampire would not leave it - the Necroscope

now had an unwelcome tenant.

Finally, at Janos's castle in the Zarandului Mountains of Transylvania, Harry recovered his

powers in full, returned Janos to dust and committed the spirit of Faéthor to an eternity of

emptiness and utter loneliness in the infinite future time-streams of the Möbius

Continuum.

But his victory was not without cost.

file:///G|/rah/Brian%20Lumley/Brian%20Lumley...cope%205%20-%20Deadspawn%20V1.0%20(html).htm (5 of 314) [2/13/2004 10:18:40 PM]

Brian Lumley - Necroscope 5 - Deadspeak

Strange urges are part of Harry now, and stranger hungers. His life-thread unwinds as

before into the unending future of Möbius time. Except . . . where once that life-thread was

pure blue, as are the threads of all entirely human beings, now it is tinged with red!

Part One

1

Charnel Knowledge

'Harry.' Darcy Clarke's voice was twitchy on the 'phone, but he was trying hard to control

it. 'There's a problem we could use some help with. Your kind of help.'

Harry Keogh, Necroscope, might or might not know what was bothering the head of

British E-Branch, and it might or might not have to do with him directly. 'What is it,

Darcy?' he said, speaking softly.

'It's murder,' the other answered, and now his twitchi-ness came on strong, shaking his

voice. 'It's bloody awful murder, Harry! My God, I never saw anything like it!'

Darcy Clarke had seen a lot in his time and Harry Keogh knew it, so that this was a

statement he found hard to believe. Unless of course Clarke was talking about . . . 'My kind

of help, you said?' Harry's attention was suddenly riveted to the 'phone. 'Darcy, are you

trying to tell me - that - ?'

'What?' The other didn't understand him at first, but then he did. 'No, no - Christ, no - it's

not the work of a vampire, Harry! But some kind of monster, certainly. Oh, human enough -

but a monster, too.'

Harry relaxed a little, but a very little.

He'd been expecting a call from E-Branch sooner or later. This could be it: some sort of

file:///G|/rah/Brian%20Lumley/Brian%20Lumley...cope%205%20-%20Deadspawn%20V1.0%20(html).htm (6 of 314) [2/13/2004 10:18:40 PM]

Brian Lumley - Necroscope 5 - Deadspeak

clever trap. Except . . . Darcy had always been his friend; Harry didn't think he would act

on something - not even something like that - without checking it out every which way

first. And even then Harry couldn't see Darcy coming after him with a crossbow and

hardwood bolt, a machete, a can of petrol. No, he'd have to talk to him first, get Harry's

side of it. But in the end . . .

. . . The head of the Branch knew almost as much about vampires as Harry did, now. And

he'd know, too, that there was no hope. They'd been friends, fighting on the same side, so

Harry guessed it wouldn't be Darcy's finger on the trigger. But someone's, certainly.

'Harry?' Clarke was anxious. 'Are you still there?'

'Where are you, Darcy?' Harry inquired.

The Military Police duties room, in the Castle,' the other answered at once. They found her

body under the walls. Just a kid, Harry. Eighteen or nineteen. They don't even know who

she is yet. That alone would be a big help. But to know who did it would be the biggest

bonus of all.'

If there was one man Harry Keogh could trust, it had to be Darcy Clarke. 'Give me fifteen

minutes,' he said, 'and I'll be there.'

Clarke sighed. Thanks, Harry. We'd appreciate it.'

'We?' Harry snapped. He couldn't keep the suspicion out of his voice.

'Eh?' Clarke sounded startled, taken aback. 'Why, the police. And me.'

Murder. The police. Not a Branch job at all. So what was Clarke doing on it - If it was

real? 'How did you get roped in?'

And suddenly the other was . . . caught on the hop? Cagey, anyway. 'I ... I was up here on a

"duty run", visiting an old Scottish auntie. Something I do once in a blue moon. She's been

on her last legs for ten years now but won't lie down, keeps on tottering around! I was

scheduled to go back down to HQ today, but then this came up. It's something the Branch

has been trying to help the police with, a set of - God! - gruesome serial murders, Harry.'

An old Scottish auntie? It was the first time Harry had heard of Darcy's old auntie. On the

other hand, this had to be a good opportunity to find out if they knew anything about . . .

about his problem. Harry knew he would have to be careful: he knew too much about E-

Branch just to go walking right into something. Yes, and they knew too much about him.

But maybe they didn't know everything. Not yet, anyway.

'Harry?' Clarke's voice came back again, tinny and a little distorted; probably the wires

swaying in the winds that invariably blew around the Castle's high walls. 'Where will I see

you?'

'On the esplanade, at the top of the Royal Mile,' the Necroscope growled. 'And Darcy . . .'

'Yes?'

'. . . Nothing. We'll talk later.' He replaced the telephone in its cradle and went back to his

breakfast in the kitchen: an inch-thick steak, raw and bloody!

To look at, Darcy Clarke was possibly the world's most nondescript man. Nature had made

up for this physical anonymity, however, by giving him an almost unique talent. Clarke

was a deflector: he was the opposite of accident-prone. Only let him get close to danger

and something, some parapsychological guardian angel, would intervene on his behalf.

Which meant that if all of Clarke's similarly ESP-talented team of psychics were

file:///G|/rah/Brian%20Lumley/Brian%20Lumley...cope%205%20-%20Deadspawn%20V1.0%20(html).htm (7 of 314) [2/13/2004 10:18:40 PM]

Brian Lumley - Necroscope 5 - Deadspeak

photographs, he'd be the only negative. He had no control over the thing; he was aware of

it only on those occasions when he stared deliberately in the face of danger.

The talents of the others - telepathy, scrying, foretelling, oneiromancy, lie-detecting - were

more pliable, obedient, applicable: but not Clarke's. It just did its own thing, which was to

look after him. It had no other use. But because it ensured his longevity, it made him the

right man for the job. The anomaly was this: that he himself didn't quite believe in it until

he felt it working. He still switched off the current before he'd even change a light-bulb!

But maybe that was just another example of the thing at work.

To look at him then, no one would suppose that Clarke could ever be the boss of anything,

let alone head of the most secret branch of the British Secret Services. Middle-height,

mousy-haired, with something of a slight stoop and a small paunch, and middle-aged to

boot, he was middling in just about every way. He had sort of neutral-hazel eyes in a face

not much given to laughter, and an intense mouth which you might remember if you

remembered nothing else, but other than that there was a general facelessness about him

which made him instantly forgettable. The rest of him, including the way he dressed, was .

. . medium.

These were Harry Keogh's perfectly mundane thoughts in the few seconds which ticked by

after he stepped out of the metaphysical Möbius Continuum on to the esplanade of

Edinburgh Castle, and saw Darcy Clarke standing there with his back to him, hands thrust

deep in the pockets of his overcoat, reading the legend on a brass plaque above a

seventeenth-century drinking trough.

The iron fountain, depicting two heads, one ugly and the other beatific, stood:

. . . Near the site on which

many witches were burned at the

stake. The wicked head and serene

head signify that some used exceptional

knowledge for evil purposes, while others

were misunderstood and wished their

kind nothing but good.

The bright May day would be warm but for the gusting wind; the esplanade was almost

empty; two dozen or so tourists stood in small groups at the higher end of the broad,

walled, tarmac plateau, looking down across the walls at the city, or taking photographs of

the great grey fortress - the Castle on the Rock - behind its facade of battlements and

courtyards. Harry had arrived in the moment after Clarke, vainly scanning the esplanade

for some sign of him, had turned to the plaque.

A moment ago Clarke had been alone with his thoughts and no living person within fifty

feet of him. But now a soft voice behind him said: 'Fire is an indiscriminate destroyer.

Good or evil, everything burns when it's hot enough.'

Clarke's heart jumped into his throat. He gave a massive start and whirled about, the colour

rushing from his face and leaving him pale in a moment. 'Ha-Ha-Harry!' he gasped. 'God, I

didn't see you! Where did you spring - ?' But here he paused, for of course he knew where

file:///G|/rah/Brian%20Lumley/Brian%20Lumley...cope%205%20-%20Deadspawn%20V1.0%20(html).htm (8 of 314) [2/13/2004 10:18:40 PM]

Brian Lumley - Necroscope 5 - Deadspeak

Harry had sprung from . . . because the Necroscope had taken him there once, into that

every-where and -when place, that within and without, which was the Möbius Continuum.

Shaken, heart hammering, Clarke clutched at the wall for support. But it wasn't terror, just

shock; his talent read no sinister purpose into Keogh's presence.

Harry smiled at him and nodded, touched his arm briefly, then looked at the plaque again.

And his smile at once turned sour. 'Mainly they were exorcizing their own fears,' he said.

'For of course most if not all of these women were innocent. Indeed, we should all be so

innocent.'

'Eh?' Clarke hadn't quite recovered his balance yet, wasn't focusing on Keogh's meaning.

'Innocent?' He too looked at the plaque.

'Completely,' Harry nodded again. 'Oh, they may have been talented in their way, but they

were hardly evil.

Witchcraft? Why, today you'd probably try to recruit them into E-Branch!'

Suddenly, truth flooded in on Clarke and he knew he wasn't dreaming; no need to pinch

himself and start awake; it was just this effect which Harry always had on him. Three

weeks ago in the Greek islands (was that all it had been, three weeks?) it had been the

same. Except at that time Harry had been near-impotent: he hadn't had his deadspeak. Then

he'd got it back, and set out on his double mission: to destroy the vampire Janos Ferenczy

and regain his mastery of -

Clarke snatched a breath. 'You got it back!' He grabbed Harry's arm. The Möbius

Continuum!'

'You didn't get in touch with me,' Harry accused, albeit quietly, 'or you'd have known.'

'I got your letter,' Clarke quickly defended himself, 'and I tried a dozen times to get you on

the 'phone. But if you were home you weren't answering. Our locators couldn't find you . .

.' He threw up his hands. 'Give me a chance, Harry! I've only been back from the Med a

few days, and a pile of stuff to catch up with back here, too! But we'd finished the job in

the islands, and we supposed you'd done the same at your end. Our espers were on it, of

course; reports were coming in; Janos's place above Halmagiu, blown off the mountain like

that. It could only be you. We knew you'd somehow won. But the Möbius Continuum too?

Why, that's . . . wonderful! I'm delighted for you!'

Harry wondered: Oh, really? But out loud he only said: 'Thanks.'

'How in hell did you do that?' Clarke was still excited. If it was all a sham he was good at

it. 'I mean, wreck the castle that way? If we've got it right it was devastating! Is that how

Janos died, in the explosion?'

'Slow down,' Harry told him, taking his arm. 'We can talk while you take me to see this

girl.'

The other's excitement quickly ebbed. 'Yes,' he nodded, his tone subdued now, 'and that's

something else, too. You won't like it, Harry.'

'So what's new?' The Necroscope seemed as calm (resigned, soulful, sardonic?) as ever.

And though he tried not to show it, Clarke suspected he was wary, too. 'Did you ever show

me anything I did like?'

But Clarke had an answer to that one. 'If everything was the way we'd like it, Harry,' he

said, 'then we'd all be out of work. Me, I'd gladly retire tomorrow. I keep threatening to.

file:///G|/rah/Brian%20Lumley/Brian%20Lumley...cope%205%20-%20Deadspawn%20V1.0%20(html).htm (9 of 314) [2/13/2004 10:18:40 PM]

Brian Lumley - Necroscope 5 - Deadspeak

But when I see something like . . . like I'm going to show you, then I know that someone

has to do it.'

As they started up the esplanade, Harry said: 'Now this is a castle!' His voice was more

animated now. 'But as for the Castle Ferenczy: that was a heap long before I got started on

it. You asked how I did it?'

He sighed, then continued: 'A long time ago, toward the end of the Bodescu affair, I

learned about an ammo and explosives dump in Kolomyya and used stuff from there to

blow up the Chateau Bronnitsy. Well, since the easy way is often the best way, I did it

again. I made two or three trips, Möbius trips, and put enough plastic explosive into the

foundations of Janos's place to blow it to hell! I'm not even going to guess what was in the

guts of that place, but I'm sure there was - stuff- there which even I didn't see and still don't

want to. You know, Darcy, even a finger-end of Semtex will blow bricks right out of a

wall? So you can imagine what a couple of hundredweight will do. If there was anything

there that we might call "alive",' he shrugged and shook his head, 'it wasn't when I'd

finished.'

While Harry talked, the head of E-Branch studied him. But not so intently that he would

notice. He seemed exactly the same man Clarke had come to Edinburgh to see just a month

ago, a visit which had ended for Clarke in Rhodes and the islands of the Dodecanese, and

for Harry in the mountains of Transylvania. He seemed the same, but was he? For the fact

was, Darcy Clarke knew someone who said he wasn't.

Harry Keogh was a composite. He was two men: the mind of one and the body of another.

The mind was Keogh and the body was ... it had once been Alec Kyle. And Clarke had

known Kyle, too, in his time. The strangest thing was this: that as time progressed, so the

Kyle face and form got to look more like the old Harry, whose body was dead. But that

was something which always made Clarke's brain spin. He skipped it, put the metaphysical

right out of his mind and studied the purely physical.

The Necroscope was perhaps forty-three or forty-four but looked five years younger. But

of course that was only the body; the mind was five years younger again. Even thinking

about someone like Harry Keogh was a weird business. And again Clarke forced himself

to concentrate on the physical.

Harry's eyes were honey-brown, occasionally defensive and frequently puppy-soulful - or

would be if one could see under those wedge-sided sunglasses he was wearing in the shade

of his broad-brimmed 1930s hat. If there was one thing in all the world Clarke hated to see,

it had to be Harry wearing those dark-lensed glasses and that hat. Anyone else, no

problem. But not Harry, and not now. Especially the sunglasses. They were something

Clarke had told himself to look out for; for while it was a common enough thing to wear

such in the Greek islands in late April or early May, it was quite another to see them in

Edinburgh at that time of year. Unless someone had weak eyes. Or different eyes . . .

Grey streaks, so evenly spaced as to seem deliberately designed or affected, were plentiful

in Harry's russet-brown, naturally wavy hair. In a few years the grey could easily take

over; even now it lent him a certain erudition, gave him the look of a scholar. A scholar,

yes, but in what fabulous subjects? But in fact Keogh hadn't been like that at all. Hadn't

used to be. What, Harry, a black magician? A warlock? Lord, no!

file:///G|/rah/Brian%20Lumley/Brian%20Lumle...ope%205%20-%20Deadspawn%20V1.0%20(html).htm (10 of 314) [2/13/2004 10:18:40 PM]

Lumley, Brian - Necroscope 5 - Deadspawn

相关推荐

开通VIP享超值会员特权

作者详情

相关内容

热门标签

举报选择: