bl.necroscope2-第77部分

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s　the　window！
　Clarke　knew　what　was　happening。　He　fought　it；　grabbed　up　his　crossbow；　forced　himself　to　follow　Roberts's　bulk　to　the　door　of　the　flat。
　Out　on　the　first　floor　landing；　Yulian　had　already　sensed　the　hated　espers　in　the　room。　He　knew　who　they　were；　and　how　dangerous　they　were。　An　old　upright　piano　stood　on　broken　castors　with　its　back　to　the　handrail　at　the　top　of　the　stairs。　It　must　weigh　almost　a　fifth　of　a　ton；　but　that　was　hardly　an　obstacle　to　the　vampire。　He　grasped　it；　gave　a　grunt；　and　dragged　it　bodily　into　place　in　front　of　the　door。　Its　castors　snapped　off　and　went　skittering；　their　broken　housings　ripping　up　the　carpet　as　Yulian　finally　got　the　piano　positioned　to　his　satisfaction。
　No　sooner　was　he　finished　than　Roberts　was　on　the　other　side　of　the　door；　trying　to　push　it　open。　〃Shit！〃　Roberts　snarled。　〃It　can　only　be　him；　and　he's　trapped　us　in　here！　Darcy；　the　door　opens　outwards…give　me　a　hand。。。〃
　They　thrust　their　shoulders　at　the　door　together；　and　at　last　heard　the　piano's　broken　claws　squealing　on　the　scored　floorboards。　A　gap　appeared；　and　Roberts　thrust　out　an　arm　into　darkness；　got　a　grip　on　the　top　of　the　piano　and　started　to　haul　himself　up　and　over　it。　He　dragged　his　crossbow　after　him；　with　Clarke　pushing　from　behind。
　〃Where　the　hell　are　those　idiots　from　downstairs？〃　Roberts　panted。
　〃Hurry；　for　Christ's　sake！〃　Clarke　urged　him　on。　〃He'll　be　up　the　stairs　by　now。。。〃　But　he　wasn't。　The　landing　light　came　on。
　Sprawled　on　top　of　the　piano；　Roberts's　eyes　stood　out　like　shiny　pebbles　in　his　face　as　he　gazed　directly　into　the　awful　visage　of　Yulian　Bodescu。　The　vampire　wrenched　Roberts's　crossbow　from　fingers　made　immobile　through　shock。　He　turned　the　weapon　and　fired　its　bolt　directly　into　the　gap　of　the　door　behind　the　piano。　Then　he　gurgled　something　from　a　throat　clotted　with　blood；　and　began　to　methodically　batter　at　Roberts's　head。　The　wire　string　of　the　crossbow　hummed　with　the　speed　and　force　of　his　blows。
　Roberts　had　screamed　once…one　high；　shrill　scream　…before　he　fell　silent　under　Yulian's　onslaught。　Blow　after　blow　the　vampire　rained　on　him；　until　his　head　was　a　raw　red　pulp　that　dripped　brains　onto　the　piano's　keyboard。　And　only　then　did　he　stop。
　Inside　the　room；　Clarke　had　heard　the　thrumm　of　the　bolt　where　it　missed　him　by　a　hairsbreadth。　And　looking　out　through　the　gap　in　the　door；　half…blinded　by　the　light；　he　had　seen　what　this　nightmare　Thing　had　done　to　Roberts。　Numb　with　horror；　nevertheless　he　tried　to　line　up　his　own　weapon　for　a　shot；　but　in　the　next　moment　Yulian　had　thrust　Roberts's　corpse　back　inside　the　room　on　top　of　Clarke；　and　rammed　the　piano　back　up　against　the　door。　And　that　was　when　Clarke　broke：　he　couldn't　fight　that　Thing　out　there　and　his　talent！　The　latter　wouldn't　let　him。　Instead　he　dropped　the　crossbow；　stumbled　back　inside　the　flat　and　sought　a　window　looking　down　on　the　street　outside。
　There　was　no　longer　any　coherency　left　in　him；　all　he　wanted　to　do　was　get　away。　As　far　and　as　swiftly　as　possible　。
　
　In　the　garret　flatlet；　Brenda　Keogh　had　been　asleep　for　only　twenty　minutes。　A　scream…like　the　welling　cry　of　a　tortured　animal…had　snatched　her　awake；　brought　her　tumbling　out　of　bed。　At　first　she　thought　it　was　Harry；　but　then　she　heard　scuffling　sounds　from　downstairs　and　a　noise　like　the　slamming　of　a　door。　What　on　earth　was　going　on　down　there？
　She　went　a　little　unsteadily　to　her　door；　opened　it　and　leaned　out　to　listen　for　any　recurrence　of　the　sounds。　But　all　was　silent　now；　and　the　tiny　landing　stood　in　darkness…a　darkness　which　suddenly　flowed　forward　to　send　her　crashing　back　into　the　room！　And　now　Yulian　was　within　an　ace　of　his　revenge；　and　his　coughing　growl　was　full　of　triumph　as　he　gazed　with　a　wolf's　eyes　on　the　girl　sprawled　upon　the　floor。
　Brenda　saw　him　and　knew　she　must　be　nightmaring。　She　must　be；　for　nothing　like　this　should　live　and　breathe　and　move　in　any　sane　waking　world！
　The　creature　was　or　had　been　a　man；　certainly　he　stood　upright；　however　forward…sloping。　His　arms　were　。
　long！　And　the　hands　at　the　ends　of　those　arms　were　huge　and　clawlike；　with　projecting　nails。　The　face　was　something　unbelievable。　It　might　have　been　the　face　of　a　wolf；　but　it　was　hairless　and　there　were　other　anomalies　which　also　suggested　a　bat。　His　ears　grew　flat　to　the　sides　of　his　head；　they　were　long　and　projected　higher　than　the　rearward　sloping；　elongated　skull。　His　nose…no；　his　snout　was　wrinkled；　convoluted；　with　black；　gaping　nostrils。　The　skin　of　the　whole　was　scaly　and　his　yellow　eyes；　scarlet…pupilled；　were　deep　sunken　in　black　sockets。　And　his　jaws！。。。　his　teeth！
　Yulian　Bodescu　was　Wamphyri；　and　he　made　no　effort　to　hide　it。　That　essence　of　vampire　in　him　had　found　the　perfect　receptacle；　had　worked　on　him　like　yeast　in　a　potent　brew。　He　was　at　the　peak　of　his　strength；　his　power；　and　he　knew　it。　In　everything　he　had　done；　no　trace　had　been　left　which　might　definitely　identify　him　as　the　author　of　the　crime。　INTESP　would　know　it；　of　course；　but　no　court　could　ever　be　convinced。　And　INTESP；　as　Yulian　had　discovered；　was　far　from　omnipotent。　Indeed；　it　was　impotent。　Its　members　were　merely　human；　and　fearful；　he　would　hunt　them　down　one　by　one　until　he'd　destroyed　the　entire　organisation。　He　would　even　set　himself　a　target：　say；　one　month；　to　be　rid　of　all　of　them　for　good。
　But　first　there　was　the　child　of　this　woman；　that　scrap　of　life　which　contained　his　one　and　only　peer　in　powers　…his　helpless　peer　。
　Yulian　swept　upon　the　girl　where　she　cringed；　locked　his　beast's　fist　in　her　hair　and　half　dragged　her　to　her　feet。　〃Where？〃　his　gurgling　voice　questioned。　〃The　child　…where？〃
　Brenda's　mouth　fell　open。　Harry？　This　monster　wanted　Harry？　Her　eyes　widened；　flashed　involuntarily　towards　the　baby's　tiny　room…and　the　vampire's　eyes　lit　with　knowledge　as　he　followed　her　glance。　〃No！〃　she　cried；　and　drew　breath　for　a　scream　of　sheer　terror…which　she　never　uttered。
　Yulian　threw　her　down　and　her　head　banged　against　the　polished　floorboards。　She　lost　consciousness　at　once　and　he　stepped　over　her；　loped　to　the　open　door　of　the　small　room。　。
　
　In　the　middle　flat；　struggling　blindly　with　an　old　sash　window　which　seemed　jammed；　Darcy　Clarke　suddenly　felt　his　terror　drain　out　of　him；　or　if　not　his　terror；　certainly　his　urge　to　flee。　His　talent's　demands　were　ebbing；　which　could　only　mean　that　the　danger　was　receding。　But　how？　Yulian　Bodescu　was　still　in　the　house；　wasn't　he？　As　sanity　returned；　Clarke　stopped　trembling；　found　a　switch　and　put　on　the　light。　Adrenalin　flooded　into　his　system。　Now　he　could　focus　his　eyes　again；　could　see　the　catches　with　which　the　window　had　been　made　secure。　He　released　them　and；　unprotesting；　the　window　slid　upward　along　its　grooves。　Clarke　sighed　his　relief；　at　least　he　now　had　an　emergency　exit。　He　glanced　out　of　the　window；　down　into　the　midnight　road…and　froze。
　At　first　his　eyes　refused　to　accept　what　they　were　seeing。　Then　he　gasped　his　horror　and　felt　the　flesh　creep　on　his　shoulders　and　back。　The　road　outside　the　house　was　filling　with　people！　Silent　streams　of　them　were　converging；　massing　together。　They　were　ing　out　of　the　cemetery　gates；　over　its　front　wall；　men；　women　and　children。　All　silent；　crossing　the　road　to　gather　in　front　of　the　house。　But　worse　than　the　sight　of　them　was　their　silence。　For　they　were　quiet　as　the　graves　they　had　so　recently　vacated！
　Their　stench　drifted　up　to　Clarke　on　the　damp　night　air；　the　overpowering；　stomach…wrenching　reek　of　moulder　and　advanced　decay　and　rotting　flesh。　Eyes　popping；　he　watched　them。　They　were　in　their　graveclothes；　some　of　them　recently　dead；　and　others。
　others　who　had　been　dead　for　a　long　time。　They　flopped　over　the　cemetery　wall；　squelched　out　of　its　gate；　shuffled　across　the　road。　And　now　one　of　them　was　knocking　on　the　house　door；　seeking　entry。
　Clarke　might　have　thought　he　was　mad；　and　indeed　that　thought　occurred　to　him；　but　in　the　back　of　his　mind　he　knew　and　remembered　that　Harry　Keogh　was　a　Necroscope。　He　knew　Keogh's　history：　a　man　who　could　talk　to　the　dead；　whom　the　dead　respected；　even　loved。　What's　more；　Keogh　could　raise　the　dead　up　when　he　had　need　of　them。　And　didn't　he　have　need　of　them　now？　That　was　it！　This　was　Harry's　doing。　It　was　the　only　possible　answer。
　The　crowd　at　the　door　began　to　turn　their　grey；　fretted　heads　upward。　They　looked　at　Clarke；　beckoned　to　him；　pointed　at　the　door。　They　wanted　him　to　let　them　in　…and　Clarke　knew　why。　Perhaps　i'm　mad　after　all；　he　thought；　as　he　ran　back　through　the　flat　to　the　door。　It's　past　midnight　and　there's　a　vampire　on　the　loose；　and　I'm　going　downstairs　to　let　a　horde　of　dead　men　e　inside！
　But　the　door　of　the　flat　was　immobile　as　ever；　with　the　piano　still　wedged　against　it　on　the　landing　outside。　Clarke　put　his　shoulder　to　it　and　shoved　until　he　thought　his　heart　would　burst。　The　door　was　giving　way；　but　only　an　inch　at　a　time。　He　simply　didn't　have　the　bulk　。
　But　Guy　Roberts　did。
　Clarke　didn't　know　his　dead　friend　had　stood　up　until　he　saw　him　there　at　his　side；　helping　to　force　the　door　open。　Roberts…his　head　a　crimson　jelly　where　it　flopped　on　his　shoulders；　with　the　broken　skull　showing　through　…inexorably　thrusting　forward；　filled　with　a　strength　from　beyond　the　grave！
　And　then　Clarke　simply　fainted　away。
　
　The　two　Harrys　had　looked　out　through　the　infant's　eyes　into　the　face　of　terror　itself；　the　face　of　Yulian　Bodescu。　Crouched　over　the　baby's　cot；　the　leering　malignancy　of　his　eyes　spoke　all　too　clearly　of　his　intention。
　Finished！　Harry　Keogh　thought。　All　done；　and　it　ends　like　this。
　No；　another　voice；　not　his　own；　had　spoken　in　his　mind。　No　it　doesn't。　Through　you　I've　learned　what　1　had　to　learn。　1　don't　need　you　that　way　any　more。　But　I　do　still　need　you　as　a　father。　So　go；　save　yourself。
　It　could　only　have　been　one　person　speaking　to　him；　doing　it　now；　for　the　first　time；　when　there　was　no　longer　any　time　to　question　the　hows　and　whys　of　it。　For　Harry　had　felt　the　child's　restraints　falling　from　him　like　broken　chains；　leaving　him　free　again。　Free　to　will　his　incorporeal　mind　into　the　safety　of　the　M？bius　continuum。　He　could　have　gone　right　there　and　then；　leaving　his　baby　son　to　face　whatever　was