Necroscope 9: The Lost Years (85 page)

// he was the one foreseen, then surely he
must
be there at Radu’s rising. Between times, no harm could possibly befal him … Not
between
times. Oh, the dog-Lord knew only too wel that the future was a devious thing, but what was foreseen was foreseen; as fixed as the moon in its orbit. And nothing could change that…

These were ‘facts’ which Radu impressed upon B.J.’s mind, just as she had impressed her own ‘facts’ upon Harry’s. It had become necessary, for the dog-Lord had seen the way things were going with his long-lived - perhaps too long-lived - lady lieutenant. As the seasons passed and the hour of Radu’s true awakening drew ever closer, so with each successive quarterly visit she paid him, the dog-Lord had felt B.J.’s reluctance, her resistance to his beguilment … the way she seemed to be turning
away
from him.

He had known for many years, of course, that she was Wamphyri. But while he was fixed in the resin - helpless, vulnerable - it was something he’d been obliged to keep from her. Not that he doubted his own powers, but that he was unable to assess the growing potential of hers. For B.J. was that rarity among Great Vampires: she had achieved

her ascension neither by transfusion of an egg, migration of a leech or the breathing of spores; nor by a ‘bite of conversion’ (near-total loss of blood and its replacement by copious amounts of metamorphic vampire essence, the ‘natural’ result of which would be undeath and true vampirism); nor even as her birthright.

(For al that Bonnie Jean’s parents had been ‘of the blood,’ moonchildren, they’d also been common thrals and for the greater part human. Much like Auld John.) No, none of these things had brought about Bonnie Jean’s ascension. For she had simply wiled it. Oh, there’d been more to it than that - the fact that her blood was ‘tainted’ by more than four centuries of ancestral thraldom; her regular contact over two more centuries with a source of ‘purest’ vampirism and lycanthropy, in the shape and form of Radu; the indefinite extension of her own existence at the expense of others’ - but in essence it was the truth. Bonnie Jean had wiled it.

Which was perhaps a measure of the vampire Lady she could become,
if
her Master were to alow it. Which of course he would not…

In the past
-for
the past two hundred years - B.J. had been Radu’s lifeline, without which he could not exist. By now, but for her ministrations, he would be a shriveled, truly dead thing. In some milions of years when his mountain den had colapsed and his remains were excavated, men would wonder at this bony relic out of time, of which there was no other fossil record; this dog-or wolf-like man -
Homo lupus? -
preserved in amber. But that time would never come, for which he should be grateful to her.

On the other hand, she had outlived her span by a hundred years at least, and was still young; so
she
should be grateful to him! Wel, and she had been, and loyal to a fault… until recently. For at last she had started to feel the influence of her own creature.

Radu had sensed it in her, he had tasted it in her blood: how she was torn two ways, between obedience to him and obedience to her ‘instincts,’ her burgeoning parasite. But more than this, he had sensed her uncertainty, her fear. Her uncertainty with regard to the future: B.J. knew that the Ferenczys and at least one Drakul were out there waiting; would she be capable of handling them without Radu? … And her fear of him. Oh, he had promised her the moon, but that was when she was a thral. Now she was a Lady! And what about her Harry? How would he fare when Radu was up again? Was he to
be
Radu? And if so, in whose design?

Would he have his man’s body and aspect… or the dog-Lord’s?

Bonnie Jean was a Lady, aye, but her thoughts and tumultuous emotions were as yet a woman’s, set to raging by her parasite. But a vampire is a vampire, and a Great Vampire is Wamphyri! Already she had doubts … and in a hundred years? The time would come when Radu must deal with her, he knew it. So why not in the hour of his resurgence, when his need would be greatest?

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Brian Lumley

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The idea was nothing new; he had considered it before. But now it was more than merely a notion, it was a necessity. What? But she loved a man! A mere man! Radu had only told her to give her body, not her soul! That was his; or if not his it belonged to whoever it was who gathered them, when they were fled …

Now that it was decided, definitely decided, the dog-Lord looked forward to it: that marvellous feast to come! Oh, he had sipped of Bonnie Jean’s nectar before, but to take it all - to take
her,
as he had so often dreamed of doing - to fil her on the one hand while draining her on the other … The thought was delicious! But he would save the most prized delicacy, the gobbet of true delight, until the last: B.J.’s immature parasite itself, to break a fast of centuries …

So he lay in the yellow glue of his sarcophagus, and surrendered himself to his leech’s lust. For, of course, these were not the dog-Lord’s plans alone but mainly those of his vampire, from which creature sprang everything that he was. Through his leech’s talent, or its vampire influence on his, Radu
knew
how the future would be; something of it at least. For he had been given to see it:

The Mysterious One,
(this Harry Keogh?)
his eyes full of a weird and wonderful passion: his new knowledge - his new
being,
perhaps - in
the wake of Radu’s metempsychosis? And the thrall, Bonnie Jean: a pallid husk, all drained away to nothing … And Radu Lykan, risen from
the resin, burning bright as the moon in his glory! And the world of men trembling, tumbling, thundering to its knees in the face of such a
plague as to make the Black Death seem the most trifling thing…

But not a man of them would die from Radu’s plague, or not for long. For they would al be wwdead! Not
a man
would die, no—

—But as for those who were
already
undead: the Ferenczys and Drakuls, Radu’s ancient enemies out of time, or their descendants … wel, of course they
would
die, most certainly. The true death at last, for them.

For a solution had dawned on Radu; even a ‘final solution’ to a problem as old as olden Sunside/Starside. That in a vampire world, which this world would be, the only safe course for a Lord of vampires was to be the only one! Let there be vampires galore, aye, but only
one
Lord. Lord Radu Lykan: Wamphyri…!

The Ferenczys and the last Drakul had their own problems, one of which was common to both: Harry Keogh - except they didn’t know him under that name. Or rather the Ferenczys did, through their father in his cavern pit, but Angelo Francezci seemed to have given them the
wrong
name! Two years ago the Francezcis’ many contacts had responded to a

rare reversal, when the brothers had sent out pictures of their intruder, the thief in their treasury,
requesting
information! And over the next few months the answers had commenced to come in:

From long-established ‘Families’ in Italy and America, and also from more recent branches in Europe: nothing. To the Cosa Nostra, the man in the photographs was an unknown quantity; he wasn’t on file. From the brothers’ contact in the CIA; nothing. Indeed, ‘their man’ in the CIA returned their substantial ‘gift’ in crisp dolar bils with the recommendation that the Francezcis ‘suspend their inquiries’ concerning this man -which only served to make them more curious yet. And from their long-time contact and senior lieutenant in Edinburgh: a very disappointing nothing. He had seen this man only once, since when Bonnie Jean Mirlu had tightened her security. It was now more difficult than ever to keep track of her and the members of her pack. And as for the man in the pictures - he left no tracks at all! The Francezcis had answered by telling him to try harder, which accounted for his increased surveillance; and so far only sheer misfortune had kept him from tracking B.J.

from her wine bar to the Necroscope’s house near Bonnyrig. Misfortune, and the fact that she was now doubly vigilant.

But from the KGB, some eleven months after the Francezcis dispatched their initial request for information, at last a positive but baffling response. Yes, their high-ranking go-between with the KGB knew the man in the photographs; to prove it, he enclosed a microfilm of his own. The pictures had been taken two years earlier in the Chateau Bronnitsy, the Soviet ESPionage centre, on the night of the Chateau’s destruction by some unknown agency. As for the man in these pictures:

He was Alec Kyle, Head of E-Branch, the British equivalent of the Russian organization whose HQ had been the Chateau Bronnitsy! As a result of ‘extreme methods of interrogation,’ Kyle had been brain-dead (which, with no life-support system, meant as good as physically dead) when the pictures were taken. But he had been
most certainly
dead later that same night, when the Chateau was reduced to so much rubble, and a great many of its staff with it!

There was no way he could have avoided
that
holocaust! As for the cause of the destruction: it remained to be ascertained, but sabotage seemed probable.

And a connection, however tenuous: the name ‘Harry’ rang a bell. One Harry Keogh had been an agent of this same E-Branch, but he too was dead. And as circumstances would have it, he too had died at the Chateau Bronnitsy, also during a time of crisis and sabotage in which he had definitely been instrumental. But that had been prior to the actual destruction of the place. The two incidents were probably connected, but if so the connection was ‘restricted beyond this agent’s need to know.’ In short, he didn’t have access to the relevant files …

The brothers had pressed for further information on British E-Branch. Three months later, a list of names (Branch operatives and

Brian Lumley

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contacts) had arrived at Le Manse Madonie - and also a warning: this organization was the most secret of the British secret services, and certainly the most effective. In the field of extrasensory or parapsychological inteligence-gathering, no comparable opposition existed; not since the destruction of the Bronnitsy complex - which perhaps said a lot in itself. But in any case, these people should be considered untouchables.

Which gave the brothers pause. Until now they had thought that their organization - their web, with their diseased father at its centre - was the only one of its sort. And so it was, in the field of
criminal
endeavour. Indeed the report in its entirety gave them pause. For unless the man pictured on a mortuary troley at the Chateau Bronnitsy had an identical twin, he was quite definitely the intruder in their subterranean vault;
and
he was the man in the street outside Bonnie Jean Mirlu’s place in Edinburgh!

But if the report was wrong and Alec Kyle was still alive - and perhaps alive in his capacity as Head of E-Branch? - then what was he doing with B.J. Mirlu?

Was it possible that the dog-Lord Radu Lykan had started recruiting in advance of his return, and that he was recruiting such as these top-level British espers?

What if the Bronnitsy affair had been some kind of elaborate subterfuge to make it
appear
that Kyle was dead? And on the subject of death, what had been their diseased father’s meaning when he said that this ‘Harry’ spoke to dead people?

One further request of their Moscow contact - with regard to the Harry Keogh mentioned in the first report - produced a yet more thought-provoking result.

Their informant was ‘embarrassed’ that he must pass on such dubious information; but then, in his estimation, the whole world of ESPionage was a very grey and dubious area. The brothers could readily understand his reluctance. As a hard-boiled KGB double-agent, a very much down to earth secret policeman, his mundane perception of such maters was bound to be a narrow one. But to them … his information was worrying indeed.

For this dead Harry Keogh, an ex-member of E-Branch, was believed to have been a necromancer; a man gifted or cursed to commune with the dead in order to know the secrets of the tomb! The coincidences were too many; and anyway, the brothers Francezci were no firm believers in coincidence. Whatever was going on here it involved them, B.J. Mirlu, the dog-Lord Radu Lykan in his secret lair, and apparently certain members - dead or alive - of Britain’s security services.

Enough! It had been time to set wheels turning. Eighteen months had gone by since the incident in their treasure vault, and their progress towards a solution and retribution seemed slow indeed. They had to know more about this E-Branch, about Alec Kyle, and about Harry Keogh.

But how might they investigate E-Branch, an organization of trained espers, without alerting them more substantialy to their presence and their interest? Their father could probably help … the Old Ferenczy in his pit was after al their seer, server, oracle. But he was ever more difficult, given to rambling, less in control of himself. And if Angelo knew anything at al, why hadn’t he already told them? They must see if they could find some special tidbit for him, something to goad him to greater effort.

Also, there was the list of E-Branch operatives and contacts, and on that list the name of a man’ who was not an esper as such but who was very skiled in the art of hypnotism. Sufficiently so that E-Branch used him from time to time. Surely he would know something about the organization? And if he did … then the Francezcis could
get
to know about it.

His name was Doctor James Anderson …

And meanwhile, on the Roof of the World:

Daham Drakesh, the last Drakul, had a certain advantage over the Ferenczys. He had known of the world’s ESPionage organizations from the start. Indeed, he was ostensibly ‘employed’ by one such: the People’s Army’s Parapsychology Unit in Chungking, under the command of Colonel Tsi-Hong. Through Tsi-Hong, he had been one of the first outsiders to learn of the destruction of the Chateau Bronnitsy. Also, he had been kept updated on what little was known of the activities of British E-Branch. This last was very important to him, for Radu Lykan lay sleeping somewhere in the British Isles. While seeking out his den, Drakesh must take care not to cross tracks with E-Branch. For just like the Ferenczys, he knew what would result if men suddenly became aware of the ‘monsters’