bl.necroscope2-第30部分

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　She　had　been　ill　for　a　long　time；　and　when　she　recovered。。。　well；　she　had　never　really　recovered。　Not　fully。　And　Yulian　had　known　that　it　had　grown　in　her；　and　that　he　was　its　master。　She　had　known　it　too；　which　was　what　terrified　her。
　His　〃mother〃；　yes。　Actually；　Yulian　had　never　considered　her　his　mother　at　all。　He　had　e　out　of　her；　he　knew　that；　but　he'd　always　felt　that　he　was　more　the　son　of　a　father…but　not　a　father　in　the　ordinary　sense　of　the　word。　The　son　of。。。　of　something　else。　Which　was　why　this　evening　he　had　asked　her　（as　he'd　asked　her　a　hundred　times　before）　about　Ilya　Bodescu；　and　about　the　way　he　died；　and　where　he　died。　And　to　make　sure　he　got　the　entire　story　in　every　last　detail；　this　time　he'd　hypnotised　her　into　the　deepest　possible　trance。
　And　as　Georgina　had　told　him　how　it　had　been；　so　his　mind　had　been　lured　east；　across　oceans　and　mountains　and　plains；　over　fields　and　cities　and　rivers；　to　a　place　which　had　always　existed　in　the　innermost　eye　of　his　mind；　a　place　of　hills　and　woods　and。。。　and　yes；　that　was　it！　A　place　of　low　wooded　hills　in　the　shape　of　a　cross。　The　cruciform　hills。　A　place　he　would　have　to　visit。　Very　soon。　。
　He　would　have　to；　for　that's　where　the　answer　lay。　He　was　in　thrall　to　that　place　as　much　as　the　rest　of　them　in　the　house　were　in　thrall　to　him；　which　was　to　say　totally。
　And　the　strength　of　its　seduction　was　just　as　great。　It　was　a　strength　he　had　not　realised　until　George　had　e　back。　Back　from　his　grave　in　Blagdon　cemetery；　back　from　the　dead。　At　first　that　had　been　a　shock…then　an　all…consuming　curiosity…finally　a　revelation！　For　it　had　told　Yulian　what　he　was。　Not　who　he　was　but　what。　And　certainly　he　was　more　than　merely　the　son　of　Ilya　and　Georgina　Bodescu。
　Yulian　knew　that　he　was　not　entirely　human；　that　a　large　part　of　him　was　utterly　inhuman；　and　the　knowledge　thrilled　him。　He　could　hypnotise　people　to　do　his　will；　whatever　he　desired。　He　could　produce　new　life；　of　a　sort；　out　of　himself。　He　could　change　living　beings；　people；　into　creatures　like　himself。　Oh；　they　did　not　have　his　strength；　his　weird　talents；　but　that　was　all　to　the　good。　The　change　made　them　his　slaves；　made　him　their　absolute　master。
　More；　he　was　a　necromancer：　he　could　open　up　dead　bodies　and　learn　the　secrets　of　their　lives。　He　knew　how　to　prowl　like　a　cat；　swim　like　a　fish；　savage　like　a　dog。　The　thought　had　occurred　to　him　that　given　wings　he　might　even　fly…like　a　bat。　Like　a　vampire　bat！
　Beside　him　on　a　bedside　table　lay　a　hardback　book　titled　The　Vampire　in　Fact　and　Fiction。　Now　he　reached　out　a　slender　hand　to　touch　its　cover；　trace　the　figure　of　a　bat　in　flight　impressed　into　the　black　binding　cloth。　Absorbing；　certainly…but　the　title　was　a　lie；　as　were　the　contents。　Much　of　the　alleged　fiction　was　fact　（Yulian　was　the　living　proof）；　and　some　of　the　supposed　fact　was　fiction。
　Sunlight；　for　instance。　It　didn't　kill。　It　might；　if　he　should　ever　be　foolish　enough　to　stretch　himself　out　in　a　sheltered　cove　in　midsummer　for　more　than　a　minute　or　two。　It　must　be　some　sort　of　chemical　reaction；　he　thought。　Photophobia　was　mon　enough　even　among　ordinary　men。　Mushrooms　grow　best…under　a　covering　of　straw　through　foggy；　late　September　nights。　And　he'd　read　somewhere　that　in　Cyprus　one　can　find　the　selfsame　edible　species；　except　they　never　break　the　surface。　They　push　up　the　parched　earth　until　cracks　appear；　which　tell　the　locals　where　to　find　them。　They　didn't　much　care　for　sunlight；　mushrooms；　but　it　wouldn't　kill　them。　No；　Yulian　was　wary　of　the　sun　but　not　afraid　of　it。　It　was　a　question　of　being　careful；　that's　all。
　As　for　sleeping　through　the　day　in　a　coffin　full　of　native　soil：　sheer　fallacy。　He　did　occasionally　sleep　during　the　day；　but　that　was　because　he　often　spent　much　of　the　night　deep　in　thought；　or　prowling　the　estate。　He　preferred　night；　true；　because　then；　in　the　darkness　or　in　the　moonlight；　he　felt　closer　to　his　source；　closer　to　understanding　the　true　nature　of　his　being。
　Then　there　was　the　vampire's　lust　for　blood：　false；　at　least　in　Yulian's　case。　Oh；　the　sight　of　blood　aroused　him；　did　things　to　him　internally；　worked　him　into　a　passion；　but　drinking　it　from　a　victim's　veins　was　hardly　the　delight　described　in　the　various　fictions。　He　did　like　rare　meat；　however；　and　plenty　of　it；　and　had　never　been　much　of　a　one　for　greens。　On　the　other　hand；　the　thing　Yulian　had　grown　in　the　vat　in　the　cellar；　that　had　thrived　on　blood！　On　blood；　flesh；　anything　animate　or　ex…animate。　On　flesh　or　the　red　juice　of　flesh；　alive　or　dead！　It　didn't　need　to　eat；　Yulian　knew；　but　it　would　if　it　could。　It　would　have　absorbed　George；　too；　if　he　hadn't　been　there　to　stop　it。
　The　Other。。。　Yulian　shuddered　deliciously。　It　knew　him　for　its　master；　but　that　was　its　sum　total　of　knowledge。　He　had　grown　it　from　himself；　and　remembered　how　that　had　e　about：
　Just　after　he'd　been　expelled　from　school；　the　first　of　what　he　had　always　supposed　to　be　his　adult　teeth　had　e　loose。　It　was　a　back　tooth　and　painful。　But　he　wouldn't　see　a　dentist。　Working　and　worrying　at　it；　one…night　he'd　broken　the　thread。　And　he'd　examined　the　tooth　closely；　finding　it　curious　that　this　was　part　of　himself　which　had　been　shed。　White　bone　and　a　thread　of　gristle；　the　red　root。　He'd　put　it　in　a　saucer　on　the　window　ledge　of　his　bedroom。　But　in　the　morning　he　heard　it　clatter　to　the　floor。　The　core　had　put　out　tiny　white　rootlets；　and　the　tooth　was　dragging　itself　like　a　hermit　crab　out　of　the　morning　light。
　Yulian's　teeth；　except　the　back　ones；　had　always　been　sharp　as　knives　and　chisel…tipped；　but　human　teeth　for　all　that。　Certainly　not　animal　teeth。　The　one　which　had　pushed　out　the　lost　one　was　anything　but　human。　It　was　a　fang。　Since　then　most　of　his　teeth　had　been　replaced；　and　the　new　ones　were　all　fangs。　Especially　the　eye…teeth。　His　jaws　had　changed　too；　to　acmodate　them。
　Sometimes　he　thought：　perhaps　I'm　the　cause　of　this　change　in　myself。　Maybe　I'm　making　it　happen。　Willing　it。　Mind　over　matter。　Because　I'm　evil。
　Georgina　had　used　to　say　that　to　him　sometimes；　tell　him　he　was　evil。　That　was　when　he　was　small　and　she　still　had　a　measure　of　control　over　him；　when　he'd　done　things　she　didn't　like。　When　he'd　first　started　to　experiment　with　his　necromancy。　Ah；　but　there'd　been　many　things　she　hadn't　liked　since　then！
　Georgina…〃mother〃…terror　stricken　chicken　penned　with　a　fox　cub；　watching　him　grow　sleek　and　strong。　For　as　Yulian　had　grown　older；　so　the　element　of　control　had　changed；　passed　into　his　hands。　It　was　his　eyes；　he　only　had　to　look　at　her　with　those　eyes　of　his　and。。。　and　she　was　powerless。　The　teachers　and　pupils　at　his　school；　too。　And　with　use；　so　he'd　bee　expert　in　hypnotism。　Practice　makes　perfect。　To　that　extent；　at　least；　the　book　was　correct：　the　vampire　is　quite　capable　of　mesmerising　its　prey。
　But　what　about　mortality…or　immortality；　undeath？　That　was　still　a　puzzle；　a　mystery…but　it　was　one　he'd　soon　resolve。　Now　that　he　had　George　there　was　very　little　he　couldn't　resolve。　For　George　was　still　in　large　part　a　man。　Returned　from　the　grave；　undead；　yes；　but　his　flesh　was　still　a　man's　flesh。　And　that　which　was　within　him　couldn't　have　grown　very　large　in　so　short　a　time。　Unlike　the　Other；　which　had　had　plenty　of　time。
　Yulian　had；　of　course；　experimented　with　the　Other。　His　experiments　had　told　him　very　little；　but　it　was　better　than　nothing。　According　to　the　fiction；　vampires　were　supposed　to　succumb　to　the　sharpened　stake。　The　Other　ignored　the　stake；　seemed　impervious　to　it。　Trying　to　stake　it　was　like　trying　to　leave　an　imprint　on　water。　The　Other　could　be　solid　enough　at　times：　it　could　form　teeth；　rudimentary　hands；　even　eyes。　But　in　the　main　its　tissues　were　protoplasmic；　gelatinous。　And　as　for　putting　a　stake　through　its　〃heart〃　or　cutting　off　its　〃head〃　。
　And　yet　it　wasn't　indestructible；　it　wasn't　immortal。　It　could　die；　could　be　killed。　Yulian　had　burned　part　of　it　in　an　incinerator　down　there　in　the　cellars。　And　by　God…if　there　was　a　God；　which　Yulian　doubted…it　hadn't　liked　that！　He　was　perfectly　sure　that　he　wouldn't　have　liked　it　either。　And　that　was　a　thought　which　occasionally　worried　him：　if　ever　he　were　discovered；　if　men　found　out　what　he　was；　would　they　try　to　burn　him？　He　supposed　they…would。　But　who　could　possibly　find　him　out？　And　if　someone　did；　who　would　believe　it？　The　police　weren't　much　likely　to　listen　to　a　story　about　vampires；　now　were　they？　On　the　other　hand；　what　with　the　local　〃satanic　cult〃；　maybe　they　were！
　Again　he　smiled　his　awful　smile。　It　was　funny　now；　but　it　hadn't　been　at　all　funny　when　the　police　came　knocking　at　the　door　the　day　after　George　came　back。　He　had　very　nearly　made　a　serious　mistake　then；　had　gone　too　quickly　on　his　guard；　on　the　defensive。　But　of　course　they'd　put　his　nervousness　down　to　the　recent　loss　of　his　〃uncle〃。　If　only　they'd　been　able　to　know　the　truth；　that　in　fact　George　Lake　was　right　under　their　feet；　whining　and　shivering　in　the　cellars。　And　even　so；　what　could　they　have　done　about　it？　It　was　hardly　Yulian's　fault　that　George　wouldn't　lie　still；　was　it？
　And　that　was　another　part　of　the　legend　which　was　a　fact：　that　when　a　vampire　killed　a　victim　in　a　certain　way；　then　that　victim　would　return　as　one　of　the　undead。　Three　nights　George　had　lain　there；　and　on　the　fourth　he'd　clawed　his　way　out。　A　mere　man　buried　alive　could　never　have　done　it；　but　the　vampire　in　him　had　given　George　all　the　strength　he　needed　and　more。　The　vampire　which　had　been　part　of　the　Other；　which　had　put　one　of　its　pseudohands　into　him　and　stopped　George's　heart。　The　Other　which　had　been　part　of　Yulian；　in　fact　Yulian's　tooth。
　What　a　torn　and　bloodied　state　George　had　been　in　when　Yulian　opened　the　door　to　him　that　night。　And　how　the　house　had　rung　to　his　demented　sobbing　and　shrieking；　until　Yulian　had　grown　angry　with　him；　told　him　to　be　quiet　and　locked　him　in　the　cellar。　And　there　he'd　stayed。
　Yulian　watched　the　silver　light　of　the　moon　creeping　through　a　crack　in　his　curtains；　channelled　his　thoughts　anew。　What　had　he　been　recounting？　Ah；　yes；　the　police。
　They　had　e　to　report　a　shocking　crime；　the　illegal　opening　of　George　Lake's　grave　by　person　or　persons　unknown；　and　the　theft　of　his　corpse。　Was　Mrs　Lak